Formerly the cat known as Bud E. Phat or Toothless. Alright, it's a misnomer, since he really did have some teeth left after round one of the "They Make Silicon Nuts, But Not Cat Dentures" adventure. See previous blog "Seriously Nuts"
Ready for Round Two?
Mr. Phat (as he likes to be known to all his favorite vet-tech peeps) had to go visit his adoring groupies at the BV Clinic a week ago since he had been feeling a little un-cat like lately. Turns out his teeth hurt again ... A LOT. I don't know how since he hasn't chewed anything harder than Fancy Feast in over a year and what he could have hurt them on is beyond me. For those of us who did not take Latin in school: A LOT is vet-speak for MO' MONEY, Get your wallet out, Mo' Money (sounds a lot like "it's your birthday, get your grove on, it's you birthday.... oh sorry, I'll stop that now).
Once again Mr. Phat had to have dental work done on his kitty-grill. If you added up the amount of Cha-Ching I have paid for in cat dental work and divided it by the number of teeth B. Phat now has left in his head, it works out to a little over $200 a tooth. He has 7 ~SEVEN!!! Count them 7 ~ teeth left in his mouth. I have 32 teeth and the most I spend on any one of them is $2.00 for a tube of Colgate.
For being an almost-no-teeth-left cat, Mr. B has a bit of an attitude problem. First, His Royal-Phat-Ass does not like riding in a carrier. Actually his Royal Fat-Ass can't fit into a cat carrier and it is a lot like watching sausage stuffers at work seeing me try to put him into one. But I refuse to get a slightly larger dog crate because I am a little "species-iest" and prefer not to mix dog and cat items. Then when we get to the vet, Mr. I'm-Too-Sexy-For-My-Carrier has to be hand carried into the receptionist area and held while I try to fill out paper work and pay for his vet adoration. Once he had endured a hard day being carried, petted, adored and cooed over like P.Diddy at the MTV awards, his Phatness was ready to go home... and I had to bring him back a three days for more teeth yanking. Guess whom he did not love in this situation?
After A LOT more lovin' by the Vet and vet-techs, Bud now has one lone tooth on the bottom jaw and six scraggily teeth on the top jaw. Dr. All-My-Money says he should be able to keep his remaining teeth for the rest of his life or until she needs a new car down-payment; whichever comes first. Mr. B has been riding the Kitty-Jim-Morrison highway for about two days now with all the drugs the vet sent home. ~ Did you know the vet will NOT give you an prescription for Xanax if you happen to be all wigged out about your beloved pet having potentially life-ending surgery, your Coach wallet being surgically emptied and your personal cache of Ho-Ho's being dangerously low? Yeah, I didn't. You would think with all the dough I have given that woman, she would have my pharmacy on speed-dial. Anyway, Mr. Phat looks to make a full recovery and be back in the land of Cat-Reality soon. My wallet, however, was D.O.A.
With that I give you the New and Improved SNAGGLETOOTH.