Fingernails

Morty and I are having a battle of wills and I am losing, badly. I have trimmed his nails every week since all 8 oz of Mr. Attitude arrived in Myrtle Beach last spring. He LOVED having his nails trimmed. Well, maybe not "loved" but tolerated the procedure very nicely. He would sit quietly on my lap while I held one paw and clipped his nails. The biggest problem we encountered was Mr. Nosey wanting to put his face right down next to where I am clipping and me being afraid I would nip his nose with the clippers. Last night I picked him up with one hand while hiding the clippers next to my chair. I sat down with him in my lap and told him what a pretty little boy he is and how much better he will feel when we trim those long nails. Then I scratched his tummy and rubbed his ears until he was ALMOST asleep. I quietly picked up the clippers and just as I clipped the first nail he went postal. You would have thought I was trying to use a chain saw and hammer. OK...plan B. I waited another 30 minutes, lured Morty back in my lap and attempted to wrap him up in a beach towel with one foot out. That went over REAL well. Try to imagine putting mittens on an octopus. An octopus with claws. An octopus with claws who does not WANT to wear mittens. I give up, I surrender...we will go see Dr. Doty for a nail trim. If kitty's have adolescence I think Morty is right at 13 and I am willing to bet that when I leave for work he changes into saggy pants and nose ring. Peace out.