Rocky is at the vet's today getting his teeth cleaned. When I dropped him off last night, the vet doing the "intake exam" discovered that one of his big top canine teeth had fractured right off at the base! Poor cat! He lost his other top canine tooth years ago (I have no idea how it happened), and now, here goes the other one.
And of course, I felt like an axe murderer because he had a broken tooth, must have been in a lot of pain, and I never even noticed! Gah, I'm awful! Although, in my defense, Rocky does not like to have his mouth poked around in (does any cat?), so it's not like I could examine his teeth on a regular basis. (I know, I KNOW that you're supposed to brush your cat's teeth. And believe me, I tried. It did not work out. That's why I feed him special "dental diet" cat food.) The only reason I knew the other tooth was missing was because you could see the space when he yawned.
So poor Rocky is at the vet's, getting one tooth pulled and the others cleaned, and he has NO IDEA why all of this is happening to him. And he will wake up all groggy from the anesthetic in a strange cage with strange cats in other cages all around him, and no idea what will happen next. I don't even like to think about it. I keep trying to reassure myself that it had to be done, but still.
So now I am waiting for a call from the vet's, to let me know how everything went, and to find out if he can come home tonight or will have to stay over another night. I HATE waiting for the phone to ring - aaaaaaaaggggghhhhh!
Pull it together, kid.