Back in May Crash broke his tooth in half. He slipped as he was getting onto the counter and broke that canine tooth right in half. It has to come out, because otherwise it can lead to infection. After months of struggling to get his thyroid under control we finally have a dental scheduled. It’s tomorrow. The rest of his teeth look awful too, so he desperately needs them taken care of as well. I am scared though. He is 18 years old. He has heart issues. He is skinny and frail; you can feel his bones when you pet him. There is a real risk that he won’t make it through this surgery. If his tooth wasn’t chipped in half, we wouldn’t be having a dental procedure tomorrow. Apparently I have been blocking his procedure out from my brain. I don’t want to think about it. If I think about it, I will start to worry about it. I don’t want to worry about it. There are too many other things to worry about, between Sneakers walking out the door Saturday morning (I got him back) to Muffin starting her growling every time Sneakers breaths, and the dozens of other non-cat related things to worry about. Yet, not thinking about it, doesn’t mean it won’t happen. So I am getting ready to take him to the vet’s office tomorrow for his dental.
I totally trust his doctor, and I know they use the special, expensive anesthesia. I know they won’t do the dental if they don’t think he is healthy enough. Still, I am too familiar with the risks of anesthesia to feel completely at ease until Crash is back home Wednesday night. Please send your pawsitive thoughts and energy our way tomorrow!