Chihuahua: Hi Kari. What do you have in your hand there?
Me: It’s a nail trimmer.
Chihuahua: I see. And what are you going to do with it?
Me: Trim your toenails.
Chihuahua: TRIM MY TOENAILS? OMG THAT’S GOING TO HURT! I MIGHT DIE! PLEASE DON’T… oh, was that it?
Me: Yes. That wasn’t so bad, was it?
Chihuahua: No I guess not. Wait, what are you doing now?
Me: I’m going to trim the nails on your other feet.
Chihuahua: OMG THAT’S GOING TO HURT! I MIGHT DIE! PLEASE DON’T TRIM MY TOENAILS!
Me: I thought we just established that it wasn’t so bad.
Chihuahua: That was a different foot.
[Editor’s note: This is a series of conversations I wrote on my other blog last summer, when I brought Selby to work at the groomer’s with me.]