“She’s doing well under anesthesia,” the vet tells me, “but we’re going to have to pull nineteen teeth out.”
“Nineteen?!?” I squeak. I’m standing on the balcony outside my metalsmithing class with my phone to one ear and my finger stuck in the other, trying to hear over the traffic noise. “What will she have left?”
“I knew you were going to ask that,” she replied. “I made a list.”
Poor Kenya is a little short of teeth these days. I’ve taken to calling her The Toofless Wonder. Andy’s gone with Gummy.
I did feel a little better when I found out dogs have 42 teeth. Somehow knowing she has slightly more than half of her teeth left makes me feel better. Of course, finding out that neither my vet nor my sister (who is a vet) have ever had to take nineteen teeth out of a dog made me feel a bit worse. You win some, you lose some…