Lawmakers in Illinois are currently considering a bill that would make it illegal for veterinarians to declaw cats under any circumstance.
The Illinois Veterinary Medical Association opposes the bill, but not for the obvious reasons.
Veterinary critics state that veterinarians are simply hungry for money and do not want to get rid of declawing. In truth, declawing is not done frequently enough to be a revenue driver in private practices. It likely doesn’t produce enough profit to pay for a sack of puppy or kitty food.
Before retiring, I was asked about the statistics for Washington State University’s College of Veterinary Medicine. The letter requesting this public information came from a group attempting to get the procedure outlawed in all veterinary teaching hospitals.
First off, know that WSU’s veterinary teaching hospital does not teach declawing. But at that time, if a case came along by chance, they would do the declaw and allow students to assist or observe as they do with all surgeries.
If I recall correctly, WSU’s veterinary teaching hospital had conducted the procedure less than a half dozen times in the five years prior. That is a pitifully small number of procedures.
The pro-outlaw groups will state words to the effect that the tiny number of cases is great. “So see, that’s the perfect reason to discontinue the procedure, right?” They reason because so few are done, it won’t be missed.
The procedure remains legal in most jurisdictions in the U.S. One could argue veterinary students should be prepared to at least observe such a procedure in training. In real life, a practicing veterinarian can choose to do any or all surgeries on animals they so desire with the consent of the owner.
Conversely, they can choose not to do any procedure they choose. Many if not most veterinarians today will simply not do cat declawings, ear croppings, dew claw removal or tail docking for various personal and ethical reasons. That is the right of the veterinarian.
We had our cat declawed when my wife rescued him as a kitten from a slushy Winco parking lot where he had been dumped. But why?
At the time, we also had Boston terriers as we do now. A Boston terrier has a head about the size of a Rubik’s Cube with the orbs of the eyeballs affixed to two adjacent corners of the cube.
Their eyes stick out and any cat that is even playing can easily snag one of the sensitive spheres.
My dog, Buster, was snagged just like this by a random cat in our neighborhood. The feline came flying out of foliage where it was previously unseen. Some six-weeks with his inner eye-lids sewn shut and wearing an Elizabethan collar was followed by a $5,000 bill. We were happy to pay for it, but never again.
The procedure, despite the doc’s best efforts, was only partially successful. His eye continued to deteriorate and was never without pain. In time, he abandoned anything playful and slept most of the time. One day, he no longer wanted to have anything to do with us. He’d simply sequester himself off in some remote corner of the house until eventually, euthanasia to end his pain was our only option.
So how badly did our cat Nico suffer? I honestly never saw him suffer at all. The night we brought him home from surgery he jumped up on my wife on the sofa and began his usual behavior of “kneading bread dough.” He never missed a meal and he drank water as he always had.
Powell is the retired public information officer for Washington State University’s College of Veterinary Medicine. For questions or to provide columns ideas, email charliepowell74@gmail.com.
