The dental fairy comes for Sally Cookie’s teeth. They are not to be found. Sally wakes me up and asks, quite angrily for her, “Where are they?” I say the vet offered them, but I said no. They were diseased; I didn’t want to save them. Was this unsentimental of me?
She shakes her head; once again I have failed her. “The tooth fairy was going to leave me a live mouse and a yellow parakeet under my pillow in return for the teeth. I was looking forward to it.”
“I had no idea,” I say sadly. And then I remember I have her x-rays. I rummage around in the drawer. “Will this do?” I say handing her tiny x-ray with 5 or 6 images of what looks like stalagmites, the decision will be handed down next month… I’ll let you know.
The back-story. Last year every time I took Sally C. into to see her old vet, the vet would look in her mouth and say, “I can hardly look in there. It’s awful.” Once she invited me to take a peek. I nerved myself up and looked. Something that appeared to be an open wound was visible at the back of her mouth. But we agreed that Sal was just too fragile to go under anesthesia.
The new vet and I discussed the problem. He said she’s stage 4. I wondered, why is cat dental surgery suddenly so popular? I suspect a new and reliable source of revenue, but then I remember the inside of her mouth.
He takes many blood tests and urine samples and pronounces her sound enough to go under. The procedure takes 3 hours and every one of her teeth.
It’s been a week since the surgery. I am concerned. It’s so difficult for her to eat that she has lost interest in food.
I heard that in the old days when people had all their teeth removed their gums became so hard that they could eat an apple without any difficulty. Is that apocryphal?
2 comments:
Cats usually do not eat apples; and yes, that is apocryphal. Hope Sally Cookie does much better in the future. She has gone through so much pain already.
Please tell us how Sally Cookie is doing.
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