Achieving the Goal (in Claw-Clipping)

Last Saturday (two days ago), I decided to clip Apricot's claws again. I'd been doing it about every two weeks (that's the problem with good nutrition; everything grows faster). I'd actually decided earlier in the week when Apricot was kneading on me and I discovered that, yes, they needed to be clipped again.

But he is so excited and worked up when I get home from work that it would be the height of folly to attempt something like that during the week. He stays fairly excited and bouncy happy until I go to bed, since there's only a few hours between my coming home and my going to bed, so I wait until the weekend to do claws.

I told him I needed to clip his claws (that's the verbal cue that lets him know something's up). I showed him the clippers and the treat bag, one in each hand, neither any closer than the other (that's the visual cue that lets him know what's going to happen).

At this point, Apricot astounded me by voluntarily crossing the distance between us (which was about half the living room; more than a few feet!). So I sat down and drew him up onto my lap, putting the treat bag on the floor. He made no objection to any of this.

I clipped all his claws, front feet and back, and he simply sat there, tummy up, back against me, waiting patiently. He even waited patiently while I cleaned the claw clippings off his tummy, which is amazing considering tummy exposure is threatening in the first place, and then I'm tugging on fur trying to pull the clipping out from between fur tufts.

Then I put him back on his feet, experimentally putting him down with front feet on one side of my leg and back feet on another. I was so surprised by his complete acceptance of the clipping that I wanted to see if he was even the slightest bit upset --

--Right now, as I write this, he is asleep on the window cat tree, paws over his nose, and he is snoring. I've never heard him snore before! --

Anyway, by putting him down with my leg underneath him, if he was truly unruffled, then he wouldn't mind; if he was even a bit upset, he'd mind and scramble away.

Nope. Unruffled magnificently. He simply stepped over my leg and turned to wait expectantly for his treat.

Whereupon I learned he can count. To four, anyway. I thought perhaps since he'd been so calm for the claw clipping I could get away with a smaller bribe reward. But after two treats he looked up for more, and got an impatient gleam to his eye when they were slower in forthcoming. After four treats, he was satisfied and strolled off. (The rule is one treat per paw I got clipped. And he apparently knows this!)

I was so very impressed and astonished and proud of him. Far cry from the cowering fearful cat in the corner of the headboard hideyhole. I mean, yes, the goal of training is to achieve this: being able to do necessary physical caring tasks without the cat going ballistic/catatonic, but I never expected it to happen so soon with him!