A soft smile curving her mouth, Summer looked down at Cat and shook her finger a tiny bit in his mouth. “You’re a precious boy, Loki’s heart. You guard it well, understand?” she murmured. He just licked her finger and tried to chew on it again. “Yes, yes, popsicle finger.”
“I brought a set of clippers as well, if he tries to claw your furniture.”
Loki pointed down at the bottom of the sofa.
“I fear that measure may be—ah, what is the saying? ’Shutting the barn door after the horse has made good his escape’?”
Indeed the furniture was already well scratched and worn by small claws.“Let’s put it this way: do you want to stop it happening again?” Summer eyed the frayed cat-art with a wry face, and reached once more for the canvas bag. “Here’s where the treats will truly come in handy.” Clippers in one hand, she swiftly swept Cat into her lap and pinioned him there with elbow and knees. “Give paw, Cat. Hold still and this won’t hurt. Watch, Loki … see how if I press gently just here,” she demonstrated, “his claw pops out,” snip, “and then it’s done. Cat has black claws, so you have to be really really careful about how deep you cut, because you won’t be able to see where the blood vessel lies.”
Laying down the clippers, she produced, like magic, yet another item from the bag, this one a pouch of the same treats she bought for her own cats. “Yes, yes, I know you are offended Cat. Here.” She offered the indignant kitten a tuna-flavoured crunchy treat.
Cat had protested volubly as Summer had clipped his claws, and now he gave the treat—and Summer—an offended look, refusing to accept it right away. Loki put a hand to his face, hiding his smile.
“Just like your papa,” she told him, and put a pile of treats on the floor a foot away. “All standoffish. Must be inherited.” Sighing, she stroked the top of Cat’s head with a fingertip, looking up in time to catch Loki’s expression.
“Are you laughing at me? You are! You’re laughing at me.” She tried — and failed — to imitate Cat’s indignant expression.