I love my cat. I love my cat. I love my cat. Do you think that if I repeat it often enough, it will come true? Or at least make me grumble about her less?
Not long ago I was waxing poetic (literally) about my new feline. I adored her. Until I took her to the vet for a checkup that is.
It turns out that my feline is like my dad. They both suffer from bad teeth. My dad's had practically all of his teeth replaced/repaired/removed at one time or another.
That's right, the vet told me that my cat needed teeth pulled. He could see that at least one fang had to be removed, and he guestimated that another would probably have to go too. Since it was either pay the money for removal now, or pay the money for removal + antibiotics for whatever infections she'd get, I opted to have the tooth fair visit her sooner rather than later.
Now, as a Canadian, I have very little experience with medical quotes/bills. Therefore you can imagine my shock (and horror) that to get 2 teeth extracted from a cat's mouth was going to cost me $900!!! Holy effing Christ! Can't a pair of pliers do the same job??? It seems the answer is no, because vets insist upon anesthesia, pain meds, blood work, etc.
When I took Nix into the vets, I must admit that I felt like a guilty mommy. But it was for the best. I was allowed to take her home essentially the next day. It turns out that she needed 3 teeth removed, as well as a shard of a previously broken tooth.
When I went to pick her up from the vets, I told them, "Hi there, I'm here to pick up my gap-toothed cat!" It took them a moment to understand the joke but chuckled eventually.
After the experience, I kept threatening to rename Nix to be "Gap" (in honor of her missing fang) or "Patch" in honor of the shaved patch of fur where the IV was during her surgery.
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