Our local Humane Society insisted on rendering Don Juan incapable of BEING a Don Juan before I could take him home. When I picked him up at the HS veterinary clinic, the vet said that Don Juan cowered at the back of the cage at the doctor's approach.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME, MAN!"

"WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING TO CUT OFF NOW?? MY CLAWS??? MY WHISKERS???? MY TAIL??????"

I'm sorry to say that I used the example of what happened the LAST time he had an operation to discourage him from gnawing on the yarn for my nephew's sweater.

Liz

Mom and sleeping spot for Don Juan, COTD July 14, 2003.