Miles spent the night at the vet last night because he was scheduled for a dental cleaning today. First, I hate it when the cats have to go under anesthesia, but realize that tartar build up and tooth decay in animals can lead to bigger problems down the road. I know my vet wants me to brush the cats’ teeth. I’ve tried multiple times. However it is a recipe for disaster and blood loss so they get dental treats and subsist on a dry food diet then I suck it up and get their teeth cleaned. Second, I hate when they have to spend the night at the vet, but the morning drop off is 7:30 a.m. which conflicts with me living the dream and changing lives. I spend the night feeling like a bad mom and worrying about my poor boy alone in a strange place.
So I was relieved when the vet tech called mid morning to tell me that Miles did well under the anesthesia and was awake and demanding love from anyone who passed his cage. However she seemed hesitant and there was clearly a “but” coming in her sentence. They had to take an x-ray of a suspicious tooth which turned out to be decaying. As soon as she said that, I got dizzy and sweaty, having visions of Cosmo and the cancer that absorbed his jaw bone and teeth into a misshapen tumor. I had even said “Cosmo” the night before when telling friends about Miles’ upcoming appointment. Brain had been on paranoid kitty overload for the past few days about this appointment.
Fortunately, at least in my view, I always mark the box that says to go ahead with whatever procedure seems in the best interest of the health and safety of the animal. It’s an expensive box to check, but it’s supposed to save an extended time under anesthesia or having to bring him out of it only to go back a second once they get my approval. Plus getting me on the phone at work is a crap shoot even if my cell is in my pocket on days when fur babies are at the doctor. They went ahead with the tooth extraction, the cat version of a “crown.” The exposed decaying portion of the tooth was removed then the gums were sutured over the remainder of the tooth and roots which will apparently turn in to bone. What! Nature is weird.
I wasn’t able to get to Miles until almost 5:00, but the techs assured me that he was good to go and very stable on his feet. Little buddy now has pain meds and antibiotics to start taking tomorrow. When we got home and I opened the carrier, it was clear that Miles had gotten a dose of the good drugs to last until tomorrow morning. He could walk a straight line, but the tail was down and the head was up in strange inquisitive pose. After a lap of the perimeter while Sookie trailed him sniffing him all over, he stretched out in the living room.
Unlike all other high cats I’ve dealt with, Miles had little to say about it. He takes after his mommy. When you give me pain meds, all I want to do is quietly lay down too. He just stared from huge black, dilated eyes at things that only he could see while the ladies converged on him. It would have been really sweet if they had decided to groom him, but I suspect some of the sniffing was more about deciding whether or not to attack him. Scary vet smells!
Stoned Miles does not want to be petted too much or even really bothered at all. He seems to just be concentrating. Concentrating so much that his bright pink tongue has been sticking out most of this evening. He has not appreciated the times that I have tried to point this out to him by poking at the tip of his tongue. It makes him look like maybe he had head trauma instead of a dental cleaning. Poor baby.
Miles’ theme song tonight is “To Be Young” by Dave Rawlings Machine.