Am I Thinking?
Monday. I dropped Ms. Emmy off at the Lake Veterinary Hospital this morning before breakfast to have her teeth cleaned and a badly decayed molar removed. It's a procedure they've been pushing for some time and it involves putting her under an anesthetic for the work to be done. I finally decided to do it when they said the tooth was causing episodes of a mucus like liquid dripping from her mouth that started about a month ago, but I admit I'm not happy to have her in there, not convinced this is the right thing to have done. Yelp has positive comments about the clinic itself insofar as their skills are concerned, but there are also many comments saying they're price gougers who charge you twice or more what other reliable vets would charge. I'll spend the money, but I'm not happy about any of it. Do I trust these people with my cat? I guess, but I'm not sure or I wouldn't be writing this. I should have done more research sooner. Not something you want on your resume: he should do his research sooner.
Otherwise the day is cloudy with a few rain drops falling as I was driving back from breakfast (the vet is located on the same block as my breakfast place), a groggy Ms. Emmy to be ready for pickup later this afternoon.
Later. I picked her up at four, a small red elastic band around the middle of her left front leg, a small shaved patch of fur gone from the right, she quiet and clearly drugged rhythmically pumping the comforter with her two front paws at the bottom of her carrier, the vet providing me with anti-biotics and pain medication (morphine based) to give her this evening and tomorrow. She's been walking around the apartment, first eating (she hasn't been allowed to eat anything since midnight last night), then checking out the litter box, then eating, now back on the bed. They removed one molar leaving a self dissolving suture in its place and cleaned her teeth. You don't want to know what they charged. Neither do I.
So, good. I was well aware of her absence during the day, little ah-ha! moments when I'd pass the bedroom door looking up to check her out on the bed before remembering where she was. We've devolved into kitty talk here at the old homestead. What am I thinking?