People are just learning the brutal reason why you should never declaw your cats

Certainly, declawing your cats is not a good idea.
A lot of people are just discovering on the internet why declawing cats is never a good idea.
The struggle will be familiar to the pet owners. Yes, the cat will sharpen its claws on the new couch you bought for the living room.
You can see why many cat owners choose to declaw their pet by considering the same reasoning that applies to any type of furniture in the house.

Even though it could be better for your couch, that might not be the best thing for your cat.
Declawing is defined as “the amputation of the last bone of each toe on a cat’s paw” by The Humane Society of the United States, and that definition alone should dissuade you from engaging in the procedure.
Our animal buddies endure great anguish during declawing, as the society compared it to chopping off your finger at the last knuckle.
They continued, giving an explanation: “Using a scalpel or guillotine clipper, amputation is the usual way of declawing. The feet are wrapped, and the incisions are sealed with surgical glue or stitches.”
Recently, the declawing debate has spread to Twitter, largely due to the popular account “non aesthetic things.”
The user wrote, “This is why you shouldn’t declaw your cat,” and included a video that showed what happens to cats who are declawed.


Basically, declawing causes the last bone on a cat’s toes to be severed and removed. This impacts the tendons and ligaments and eliminates the claw entirely.
Cats may feel “extreme pain” when they learn to walk on what are essentially amputated toes, but they do heal eventually.
The movie described how this causes cats to struggle with walking, jumping, and balance, which would ultimately cause them to exhaust their nine lives.
Even in the long run, defewing can have negative effects like arthritis, persistent pain, and limited mobility.

Oh, poor infants.
Many people have flocked to the Twitter video’s comments section, where many have only recently discovered the grim reality of declawing.
One member said, “So declawing your cat is just removing parts of their feet wth.”
One person wrote, “literally, take off our very last finger bone that we literally use to type,” another wrote, “It’s absurd to think that a significant portion of people in the US declaw their cats.” A third person wrote, ” To be honest, I’ve never heard of this outside of the United States.”
Four people said, “Declawing should be banned everywhere, it’s just inhumane!” in the meantime.

I Found a Phone Number and a Cryptic Note in My Husband’s Old Coat — What I Discovered Left Me Stunned

When I found a mysterious note in my husband’s old coat, its cryptic message sent my mind reeling. What followed was a journey of doubt, suspense, and a shocking revelation.

The house was alive with the sound of laughter. My son, Dylan, sat on the floor, lining up toy cars in a neat row, his little tongue sticking out in concentration. Next to him, his sister, Ella, twirled in her princess dress, spinning so fast that the hem of her skirt fluttered like a butterfly’s wings.

A girl in her princess dress | Source: Freepik

A girl in her princess dress | Source: Freepik

“Watch out, Dylan!” she giggled. “I’m a ballerina tornado!”

Dylan rolled his eyes but smiled. “Tornadoes don’t wear crowns, silly!”

From the kitchen, I smiled as I poured coffee into a mug. Their voices echoed, blending with the morning sunlight streaming through the windows.

Happy woman drinking coffee | Source: Pexels

Happy woman drinking coffee | Source: Pexels

Denton strode into the living room, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. His briefcase dangled in one hand, his usual confident stride making him look taller than usual. He bent down to kiss Ella on the head. “Don’t spin too much, sweetheart. We don’t want anyone getting dizzy.”

He turned to Dylan, tousling his hair. “Hold the fort while I’m gone, buddy.”

Dylan puffed out his chest. “I will, Dad!”

Father and son | Source: Pexels

Father and son | Source: Pexels

Denton glanced at me as he shrugged into his coat. “I tossed an old one in the donation pile last night. Be sure to check the pockets. I don’t want to accidentally lose anything important.”

“Got it,” I said, watching as he gave me a quick smile and headed for the door.

“Love you!” he called.

“Love you too,” I replied. The door clicked shut behind him.

A couple at home | Source: Pexels

A couple at home | Source: Pexels

Later, with the kids still playing, I turned to the donation pile. Denton’s old coat lay on top. As I picked it up, my fingers brushed against something in the inner pocket.

Frowning, I slipped my hand inside and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.

It felt important, like something I shouldn’t ignore. I opened it slowly.

The words sent a chill down my spine.

A shocked woman looking at a note | Source: Midjourney

A shocked woman looking at a note | Source: Midjourney

“This is between us. No one else can know.”

My breath caught. I flipped the paper over.

“For service, call” and a phone number I didn’t recognize.

My heart thumped hard in my chest. My first instinct was denial. Denton wouldn’t hide something from me. Would he?

A suspicious woman | Source: Freepik

A suspicious woman | Source: Freepik

I folded the note back and shoved it into my pocket. The house suddenly felt too quiet.

That evening, I kept my hands busy while my thoughts ran wild. I cooked dinner, asked the kids about their day, and tried not to let my mind wander back to the note.

Denton walked in just before dinner, setting his briefcase on the counter. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Smells great in here,” he said, glancing at the bubbling pot on the stove.

A man arriving home | Source: Freepik

A man arriving home | Source: Freepik

I smiled tightly. “Thanks. It’ll be ready in a minute.”

At dinner, he laughed with the kids, teasing Ella about her spinning and asking Dylan how his car races went. He looked like the same Denton I’d known for years—kind, attentive, and completely at ease.

And yet, the note burned in my pocket.

A thoughtful woman | Source: Pexels

A thoughtful woman | Source: Pexels

That night, as we lay in bed, Denton turned off his side lamp and leaned over to kiss my forehead. “Goodnight, hon,” he murmured, his voice warm and familiar.

“Goodnight,” I whispered back, staring at the ceiling long after he’d fallen asleep.

The next morning, after Denton left for work, I sat at the kitchen table with my phone in hand. The note lay next to it, the words staring up at me like a dare.

A thoughtful woman with a phone | Source: Pexels

A thoughtful woman with a phone | Source: Pexels

Taking a deep breath, I dialed the number.

“Hello?” The voice was calm, feminine, and confident.

“Hi,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “I would like to book your… services.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then, the woman said, “If you have my number, you must know what to do. Be here at 2 p.m. tomorrow.” And she gave me the address right before hanging up.

A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels

A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels

Before I could ask anything else, the line went dead.

I stared at my phone, my stomach churning. What did she mean? What was I supposed to do?

The next afternoon, I stepped out of the taxi, clutching my bag tightly. The seaside mansion loomed before me, its large windows gleaming in the sunlight. Waves crashed softly in the distance, a soothing backdrop to my rising nerves.

A seaside mansion | Source: Pexels

A seaside mansion | Source: Pexels

The front door opened before I could knock. A young woman, polished and poised, stood there. Her sleek black dress hugged her figure, and she wore a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You must be here for the appointment,” she said, her tone smooth but unreadable. “Come in.”

I hesitated but followed her inside.

A woman in a black dress | Source: Freepik

A woman in a black dress | Source: Freepik

The room she led me to was stunning, with elegant furniture, fresh flowers in crystal vases, and the faint scent of lavender in the air. I perched on the edge of an armchair, trying to look calm while my pulse raced.

The woman gestured to the seat opposite me. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Someone will be with you shortly.”

I nodded, my throat dry, as she stepped out of the room, leaving me alone.

A woman entering a lobby | Source: Pexels

A woman entering a lobby | Source: Pexels

The door creaked open, and the young woman returned. She moved with an effortless grace, her face a mask of polite professionalism.

I cleared my throat, determined to get answers. “What services do you provide?”

She raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of curiosity and mild amusement. “If you’re here, you should already know.”

A confident woman in a black dress | Source: Pexels

A confident woman in a black dress | Source: Pexels

Her tone was calm, almost rehearsed, but it grated on my nerves. “I don’t know,” I said, my voice sharper now. “That’s why I’m asking.”

She tilted her head, as if considering me. “If you say so,” she murmured, her words cryptic.

My frustration bubbled over. I fumbled with my phone, pulled up a picture of Denton, and held it out to her. “This man. Has he been here?”

A woman holding a mobile phone | Source: Freepik

A woman holding a mobile phone | Source: Freepik

For a moment, her composure faltered. Her eyes flicked to the screen, and something unreadable crossed her face. Then, she smiled faintly. “You’ll find out soon enough,” she said.

“What does that mean?” I demanded, but she stepped back toward the door, ignoring my question. “Wait here,” she instructed before slipping out again.

The silence that followed was unbearable. My mind raced, imagining every worst-case scenario. Had Denton lied to me? Was this woman protecting some secret?

A nervous woman | Source: Freepik

A nervous woman | Source: Freepik

Suddenly, a burst of noise shattered the quiet. The door swung open, and a wave of people flooded in, their cheers echoing through the room.

Confetti rained down, and my heart jolted in confusion. I recognized faces—friends, family, even my kids and nephews. Dylan and Ella ran toward me, laughing and throwing handfuls of colorful paper in the air.

Kids playing in confetti | Source: Pexels

Kids playing in confetti | Source: Pexels

“Mama, surprise!” Ella squealed, jumping into my lap.

I looked around, bewildered, as Denton appeared in the doorway. He wore a sharp tuxedo and carried a bouquet of deep red roses. His grin was wide, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Denton?” I stammered, my voice barely audible over the commotion.

Happy shocked woman | Source: Freepik

Happy shocked woman | Source: Freepik

He walked over and knelt in front of me, holding out the roses. “Happy 10th anniversary, darling,” he said softly.

Behind him, a large banner unfurled. In bold letters, it read: “Happy 10th Anniversary!”

My breath caught as the realization hit me. This wasn’t betrayal. It was… a surprise.

Denton took my hand, helping me to my feet. “I bet you have a million questions,” he said, his tone playful.

Couple holding hands in the dark | Source: Pexels

Couple holding hands in the dark | Source: Pexels

“That’s an understatement,” I replied, my voice shaky but tinged with relief.

He chuckled, glancing at the young woman who now stood smiling near the door. “I knew you’d find that note and wouldn’t be able to resist following the clues.”

I blinked at him, still processing. “The note? The phone call? All of this?”

“It was all part of the plan,” he said, squeezing my hand. “This house—it’s like the place where we first met. Remember? That summer by the sea?”

A happy couple talking | Source: Freepik

A happy couple talking | Source: Freepik

My eyes widened as memories rushed back. The sandy beaches, the salty breeze, the way he’d made me laugh until my sides hurt. “I… I can’t believe you remembered,” I whispered.

“How could I forget?” he said, his voice soft. “I wanted to do something special. Something you’d never forget.”

The kids tugged at my arm, their excitement bubbling over.

Happy kids at a party | Source: Freepik

Happy kids at a party | Source: Freepik

“Mama, we were in on it too!” Dylan said proudly. “Dad said it was a secret game, and we had to wait here until you showed up!”

Ella nodded enthusiastically. “We got to throw confetti!”

I laughed, the tension in my chest finally breaking. “You two did a great job.”

Denton gestured toward the young woman. “And this is Rebecca. She works for a company that organizes parties like this one.”

A smiling woman in a black dress | Source: Freepik

A smiling woman in a black dress | Source: Freepik

Rebecca stepped forward, smiling. “Your husband has quite the imagination. I was happy to help.”

As the evening unfolded, Denton explained how he’d rented the mansion for the day and coordinated everything with our friends and family.

A happy couple talking over coffee | Source: Freepik

A happy couple talking over coffee | Source: Freepik

“I wanted to remind you of where it all began,” he said as we sat together, the kids playing nearby. “Life gets busy, and sometimes we forget to take a step back and appreciate what we’ve built.”

I felt a lump in my throat as I looked at him. “I can’t believe I doubted you,” I admitted. “I let my mind go to the worst places.”

A happy couple talking | Source: Freepik

A happy couple talking | Source: Freepik

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around me. “I wanted to keep it mysterious, but maybe I overdid it a little.”

“Just a little,” I teased, smiling through tears.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*