I’ll start off by saying that I’m neutral in the declaw debate. I can see why some of those who have their cats declawed do, and I can see why others, like this site, believe it’s an inhumane act.
Yes, I know that it’s actually the removal of the first toe joint, not just the claw. I know of the complications, like infections and regrowth of the nail. I know of the long-term side effects like phantom pains and biting.
My belief is that every cat reacts to the surgery differently. Is the pain unavoidable? Yes, of course, it’s their feet and there’s no wheelchairs for cats. Unless you have the cat so packed with painkillers that it doesn’t make an effort to move, which no vet would recommend regardless of the type of surgery (spay, cancer removal, etc), the cat WILL walk around at some point between the day you take it home and the day its paws are completely healed.
Rusty, my mother’s first cat, was originally not declawed. As a kitten, he had a window smash his feet and the first TWO joints on his toes were broken. The vet couldn’t fix the first joint; it’d been smashed beyond repair. She did her best to save the second joint, however, after the first set were removed. So, in a sense, he was “declawed”.
Rusty’s feet healed and the only noticeable difference was that he was then afraid of windows (which my mother didn’t mind, considering he’d already been hurt once and was supposed to be indoor only anyway). He quickly returned to doing all of the normal kitten things that he’d done before the accident; tearing through the house, attempting to scratch the (now useless) post and furniture, peeing in his litterbox like a good boy.
There were no phantom pains, and he still gave his “love bites”, which were when he’d stand on our chest and nibble and lick our chins, not actual bites. Rusty lived to the happy age of 22 years before his kidneys failed and he had to be put down.
Nala was the first cat that was, in a sense, mine. Rusty had been my mother’s, and the cute kitty in the shelter was so appealing to a young girl who’d just seen The Lion King. The shelter told us that she might not be the best choice, because she was picked out of a feral community and they didn’t know how old she was, but after several minutes of watching her rub against my legs, they let us take her, warning us that she might not be the nicest cat to strangers because of her rough start. Now, when we got Nala, the shelter itself was declawing all new arrivals because they had discovered that the declawed cats were finding homes faster, probably because people liked the thought of not having to worry about their furniture or post. Nala was declawed before we brought her home.
We’re not sure how old Nala was when we got her, possibly a year or two. She adapted quickly to our home, enticing an older dog my family had rescued before I was born to play for the first time in that dog’s life. She, like Rusty, did all the normal cat things. She was less even tempered though, which isn’t a surprise considering she was a feral, so when we children did something that displeased her she’d give us a quick swat with her paws. No claws, but it was a sharp enough tap to let us know to stop what we were doing. She did bite, once, in the first week. I’d picked her up and tried to cuddle too hard, and she let me know that was unacceptable. I still have that scar; three stitches to my lip taught me that kitties need to breath too. However, she never bit again.
Nala also lived with two other dogs during her lifetime, after the first one we had died. One was a GSD that never quite learned to not chase the kitty until Nala decided to chase back. The other is the puppy we have now. She put her face too close to Nala’s, and was quickly taught who was boss with a swat to the nose. Again, though she didn’t have claws, she did know how to defend herself well. She was also afraid to go outside, and we lock our doors so there’s no chance of anything nasty getting inside. Sadly, Nala died in her sleep from colon cancer this past December after we’d owned her for 14 years.
Another thing I think I should mention is that we once had a mole and a house sparrow come in through a small rip in a basement window screen. Nala effectively killed both; I watched her chase the mole before I realised it wasn’t one of her electronic mice (which are covered in brown cloth, very easily mistaken in the dark basement), and before I could save the creature she brought it back to me and expected me to be pleased with her gift. I hadn’t realized the sparrow had gotten in as well; she left that one for my sister. Needless to say we fixed that screen right away.
Sometime this summer I plan on adopting another cat, from the same shelter we’ve always gone to. They’ve since stopped declawing, and it seems more people are interested in mousers, which I know claws come in handy for. I will again try to adopt an already-declawed cat, mostly because I live with my mother who doesn’t believe cats can be taught not to scratch the furniture (which, some clawed cats I’ve known have been rather stubborn about when the walls or table are more to their tastes than a post). I also know clawed cats who scratch only their posts faithfully, so while I don’t agree with my mother, it is her house. Thus, an already declawed cat is more suitable than one who’s claws, and toes, I’d have to pay to be amputated.
As for the other declawed cats I’ve known (Tigger, Tiger, Midnight, Tiger{x2}, Fat Girl, Garfield, Puppy, Midnight{x2}, Lera, and yet another Midnight), Lera and the last Midnight had phantom pains. Tigger was hesitant to use his box before the surgery, and there was no change in that behavior, so I can’t say it was caused by the declaw. NONE of them were biters except Garfield, who had been previously abused before his family got him, so whether that was from the declaw or not they couldn’t tell. Fat Girl even went outside on a leash, though only for a quick potty break. They all did normal cat things. and several of the first few I mentioned had clawed companions as well that they peacefully coexisted with, even wrestling and playing together.
I’ve known several clawed cats too (Lupus, Smoke, Suzi, Bitsy, Elvis, Elvis’s 3 litters {3, 1, and 6 kittens}, Raven, Sammy, Obediah, Felix, Luther, Calvin, Cozy, Diamond, and a Siamese, Ragdoll, and several domestic shorthairs who’s names I don’t remember). Some are indoor/outdoor, others are strictly indoor. Those who lived with declawed friends did not pick on them. They acted much the same as their declawed companions, except they of course either decided to scratch their posts(Suzi), the furniture (Smoke), or both (Lupus), as they wished. And it’s not a fault of the owner for lack of trying, because Suzi, Lupus, and Smoke are owned by the same person. Different cats have different tastes.
I also don’t think it’s right to call vets who declaw criminals or money grubbers. I’ve seen that way too often on things that most people would support their vet recommending, like vaccinations and spay/neuter surgeries. One person went so far to say that they’d never go back to their vet for recommending not letting their dog go through the first heat cycle. Another said that because their vet recommended getting their new kitty updated on vaccinations, the vet must just be after their money and not looking after the protection of the cat against diseases like rabies. These people were not on this website, but another one I frequent, so I’m not pointing any fingers here.
It’s not right to lump everyone in a specific category. My vet has permanently “fostered” unadoptable special needs cats in her office (labled as foster, but their home is the office), has done her best to care for every animal we’ve brought to her, whether stray or owned by us. When our GSD suffered bloat, a condition that would have had us paying several thousand dollars we didn’t have to an after hours clinic, she helped us through it by convincing the clinic to let us pay in small payments. Without her, we would have had to pu t our dog down. The office’s official greeter is a cat she personally rescued; his former owner had thrown something at his head and smashed the right side of his face in. He cannot see out of that eye, cannot breath out of that side of his nose, and cannot open his mouth more than just to let his tongue out. She hand feeds him three times a day, a pretty messy job considering he’s friendly enough to try and smear the extra fish gruel on whatever he’s headbutting afterwards. A person that compassionate, that patient, that caring cannot be called criminal or cruel.
Lived with 2 declawed cats, knew several others to Declawing cats
