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Re: So here I am doing my nails...

Posted by Curley on 3/14/07
(9) Comments

    On 3/14/07, KittyJ wrote:
    > On 3/14/07, Micky wrote:
    >> On 3/14/07, KittyJ wrote:
    >>> And Bokka runs across his cage and peers down at me, I
    >>> turn around and this big black beak and feather head is 6:
    >>> from my head. LOL. Whoo what a shock. I heard feet running
    >>> across the bars of the cage but didnt know he'd be 6" away
    >>> from my head in that short amount of time just to check if
    >>> I was going. He doesnt like clippers or nail filers. He
    >>> had very bad experience when he was back at his former
    >>> people's home. They would clip his nails with dog clippers
    >>> untill his nails would bleed, then run his feet under cold
    >>> water :( Also did the same to his beak, no semptic powder
    >>> or anything :( So now whenever I just barelly clip his
    >>> nails enough so they are not too pointy and overgrown, he
    >>> screams for each clip that nips away at his long nails.
    >>> Last night I clipped his nails, and didnt give in when he
    >>> would try and wiggle away or anything. I had to hold him
    >>> under the blanket. He was very patient though, though he
    >>> wanted to bite the clippers each time. But then I started
    >>> to file his toes after the clippings and he actually liked
    >>> it and I was ableto have him on my lapped while I file
    >>> down nails. lol. He is sucha cutie pants :D
    >> As I read it i can now see it.There's the respect that makes
    >> calamity of so long a life; for who would bear the whips and
    >> scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's
    >> contumely, the pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay, the
    >> insolence of office, and the spurns that patient merit of
    >> the unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make
    >> with a bare bodkin? Who would trade farts with bears, to
    >> grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of
    >> something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose
    >> bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will, and makes us
    >> rather bear those ills we have, than fly to others that we
    >> know not of?

    Hey Micky how about shareing those drugs hun