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Part 2

You may have read in "The Juciest Mice In Town" about "The Avoiding of the Taking of Medication." That was me. Now a year later, humiliation has visited me again.

It began with my breath.

catnip award for feline excellence I enjoy an occasional full mouth rub on my lady's finger. You understand, as you're getting a head rub, you "mark" your person with your saliva with a little push and chew.

Well, being one of those humans continually on the lookout for dysfunctions of aging in and about my person, she noticed that I didn't have the sweetest of breath, lately. This prompted her to rudely lift my lips for a full mouth inspection. Upon seeing reddened gums, it was time for another visit to that place all animals fear, the veterinarian.

I pleaded with my eyes, walking to my food dish trying to convince my lady to follow and hence deduce that my foul breath was due to years of Ocean Whitefish, Catfish Puree, and endless fishy feedings. Obviously, this had to be the cause, and if not then exactly who was to blame, and why must I again suffer for the mistakes of the homo sapien?!

Oh the indignity of it all.

She would have none of it, though, and so I retreated to comfort myself in my basket.

As the holed box that carries me to only one place was brought out, I disappeared. I have a deep closet with plenty of hiding places. Unfortunately, she knows them all. Using a flashlight to guide her way, I was extradited to yet another veterinarian trial.

After being weighed and violated with a thermometer, my mouth was pried open and examined. Some "mmmmms" and "ahhhs" later an appointment was made for a dental cleansing. Cleansing?! I am the only cleanser of this body. Would this mean water and soap?

I could only imagine the horrors to come.

The day was one of those where the lady leaves early and returns late. I knew when I was dropped off and left that this was a very big deal. The only other time I was dropped off and left was a hazy memory. All I remember was that I was six months old and quite sore afterward. But more recently, my mother, God rest her soul, was dropped off and left. She came back with string all across her stomach and half her breasts gone! Drop off and leavings were of the utmost seriousness as far as I was concerned.

There I was, caged alongside other frightened felines, too scared to hiss or spit. I must admit I felt no empathy for the canines cowering in their cages. I was actually insulted that we all shared a room.

Sometime later I was pulled from my cage, feebly clinging to a towel I knew couldn't anchor me. I was brought to a room and put on a cold metal table. I was pierced and then . . . nothing.

I awoke with a mighty ache in my mouth. What could have been done to me? Certainly the tartar was gone as I tentatively felt about with my tongue. "Oh my Lord!" My two top incisors! My fangs! My predator hunting and defense mechanisms - gone! How could this be? I was in for a cleansing. No one said anything about a removal. The bottom incisors were still there, but of what good could only half a set of fangs be?

Upon further examination I found another hole where a molar used to be. Oh woe was me. How much further could I degenerate? What would the future hold for a toothless cat? Would I be able to attack my toys with the same fervor? What about intimidating the occasional dog with my "I dare you to get near me" face?! I could only imagine the embarrassing scene that would follow. Deceived again. The life of a cat.

Well, she picked me up acting all concerned. She slept next to my basket as I came out of my groggy post pulling phase. I was orally injected with pink medication for a week. I defiantly dribbled pink everywhere I could, especially on light colored fabrics. I stayed angry and hidden for as long as I could.

It was a good long time, too.

I'm pretty sure I taught her a lesson with my behavior. I'm almost sure she won't do anything this outrageous again. But I'll tell you what, friends, I keep a close eye on that holed box and a sharp ear on phone calls. And I hardly ever rub my mouth on her finger anymore.

There are other ways to "mark" what is mine.

Your friend,

Tigger Alice Tooncis

Sass Replies for the Gang
Ohhhh!!!!

You poor thing! What indignities they inflict upon you! You can never be to careful with humans can you?

How are you adapting to the toothless lifestyle? Can you attack your toys with the same ferocity? Can you hunt and kill? And how can you eat?

We must know the answer to these questions or we'll never, never sleep!

Sass, Jake, Solly, Leila and Chi


Dear Sass & Gang,

I thank you so much for your concern with my "health problems." My lady bought me a new toy, an odd batch of rolled up cardboard on a long wire, in an attempt to help me regain my self esteem which I lost when my "fangs" were pulled from the top of my mouth. I do actually enjoy this toy. When in motion it reminds me of chasing a fly about the room. I am happy to share that I am able to attack even without some teeth. Grasping and hanging on to it is a little more difficult.

I am continually licking my top gums in disbelief that the teeth are really gone. Perhaps I'll forget after a time. I do look quite silly, though, and would be embarrassed to interact with other kitties.

Has anyone else out there had teeth removed? What is it like for you?

Tigger Alice Tooncis
   


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