We sent our cat Casper to be groomed and get his claws trimmed. Note that word, trimmed. It's important later. Casper's a longhaired cat, gets really tangled frequently, and has a sour disposition. With his psychotically sharp claws, it makes for a bad combination for anyone wanting to try and do something about it. After the first few tries leading to almost needing stitches, we gave up and decided to let the vet's people handle it, because cat + vet = calm and docile.
Every time after he comes back, my mom will ask if I can find Casper's claws. No thank you, I'm perfectly willing to not tempt fate like that.
Anyways, today after I wake up, she hits me with this; "Oh, I wanted to let you know! Casper still has his claws!"
"Well...no shit." I'm hoping she's just being a goof, but...
"I wasn't sure, because I couldn't find them!" Yeah well, you found them now!
See, this is where we come back to 'trimmed'. See, words have meanings. If one makes an appointment to have something trimmed, the vet is kinda likely, if not obligated, to not completely remove them. Not to mention if the cat had gotten mysteriously declawed while at the vet's, I'm sure we would have noticed.
But the way this went down, with her being so serious, I had to leave the room I was laughing so hard. I can't believe she seriously thought the cat was declawed.
And now, to not watch the Oscars!