It was worse than we thought, or could have been, but thank God we got it.

That loose tooth of Roxie’s was actually part of a nasty network of gingival
evil. Periodontitis, I think it’s spelled? The loose tooth didn’t even have a
root! That poor girl’s root just had melted off, God only knows how long ago.
Another tooth had been worn to the gum, way the heck in the back; another,
literally crumbled in the process of examining. And there was the beginning
of an abcess that was so deep that there was no surface indication. Had I not
noticed the tooth and made that call…I don’t want to think about the might-
have-been. All in all, Roxie had to have seven extractions, like Brandy did.
Her angular, Siamese-looking face was very puffy when we picked her up last
evening. She didn’t have to stay over, which I just find amazing. We have to
give her antibiotics and a painkiller and I know she’ll fight like nobody’s
business, but I’m thankful for that fight

The good news? We nipped it in the bud. When we started doing Brandy’s daily
dental, Louie suggested we do Roxie too. He just had a bad feeling; the vet
had said she would be due for a cleaning around the time of the next physical
and that her gums looked okay at the time, but my husband didn’t want to take
chances. The vet said we did the right thing or else Roxie would really be in
the toilet now. She also gave Louie a good talking-to over his self-blame. We
did nothing wrong, the doctor said; she said that it’s not a matter of the
choice of food, or the giving of the mouth rinse or anything; it was a matter
of genetics, and the fact that our Roxie-chan was the bullied victim of a cat
collector. She probably hadn’t started life out with good nutrition, until we
got her.

We were told that she’d be groggy, dopey, that she’d want to hide and be left
alone and we should separate her a while, so we put her in the computer room.
She likes to sit on the monitor and on Louie’s math book shelf. But she quite
bounced back: she was scolding us for leaving her sequestered because she
wanted to play with Odessa. Roxie is not much of a talker, preferring the
more subtle tones of trilling Roxese. But did we get a serenade this morning!
She was like a little kid being put in time-out, and throwing a tantrum to
protest having to sit in the corner. And when we took her out to give her the
antibiotic, she beat the hell out of me. Good. When she puts up a fight,
that’s a healthy cat in action. We were told she’d be kind of a mess for two
or three days. Roxie has bounced back remarkably.

Thanks everyone for the Most Glorious Sound of Purr. My little lady’s so much
better, and so are her paranoid parents!

Blessed be,
Baha