You already know the feeling before it happens.
You hear the clicking on the hardwood floor. You look down and see how long they've gotten — how the nail curls just slightly at the tip now. And that pit forms in your stomach.
Because you know what's coming.
The clippers come out, and your dog already knows. He's flat on the floor, pancaked, or doing the alligator roll, or hiding behind the couch like you're coming at him with something dangerous.
And maybe you are.
Maybe last time there was blood. Maybe there was a scream you still hear in your head. Maybe you were the one sobbing on the kitchen floor, trying to pack a bleeding nail with flour because you didn't even own styptic powder.
So you put it off. A week. A month. You tell yourself it's fine, tell yourself you'll get to it, tell yourself maybe the vet tech can do it next visit for £50 — anything so you don't have to be the one holding the clippers again.
If any of that just described your Tuesday night, you're not a bad dog parent.
You've just been using the wrong tool.