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The real story of my nails

I don't think I emphasized enough how much I hate getting my nails cut. I become a gymnast, contortionist, wiggly body, whiny dog, mean, growly dog - anything I can to avoid getting my nails cut. In fact, Joan did it again today and managed to cut 4 nails on my back foot but when she tried to do the other foot, I just tried my hardest to pull my foot away as I felt that metal cutter clink my toenail. She did one toe on the front and then gave up, and I had treats and a walk. Cool. I saw half of a dead squirrel on our walk. It was just the bottom half, including tail, left. Too bad for that guy. ha ha. ;-)
This morning Joan took me to the dog park. She was SOOOO slow walking. I guess the ground was pretty much a sheet of ice so she had to hold on to the fence and walk carefully. Why are humans so slow? I had no problem running around with or without ice. However, if Joan keeps cutting my toenails I might get to the point of not being able to grip like I like!