oh god they took her teeth.

Lily’s dental cleaning turned into a surgery mid-anesthesia. They found my cat’s back left and right molars were damaged beyond safety and extracted them, after I frustrated-ly approved of the procedure over the phone.

I have decked out the bathroom in towels and blankets and laundry and cat beds and placed a second litterbox next to the sink. I have placed the incredibly high cat in her comfy corner and closed the door to prevent her sister from attempting to wrestle with her while her stitches recover.

Part of me was very worried about something like this. We were warned about dental disease and gingivitis. We tried brushing her teeth with some frequency, but Lily began to resent us for handling her. Simply picking her up became an incredible challenge. Cats are quick, y’all.

I worry this reflects my capability as a pet parent. That I couldn’t prevent these tooth extractions. That, when presented with what the new bill for the dental service would be, I momentarily considered just leaving the rotting teeth in for the sake of my wallet.

Though she undoubtedly resents me right now. I love that fucking cat. I want to see her live a long and comfortable life. I want to wake up with her snuggled against me every morning for as long as possible. But for the love of god, why did they have to take her teeth?