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Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details. Why the grin remains long after the cat has gone by J. G. Fabiano We had to do what for the cat? I stared at my wife in disbelief as she explained how my cat's doctor told her that the house pet that I had always considered as low maintenance in the past had to have his teeth cleaned. She told me the cat had developed too much tartar around its teeth and its breath was going to turn sour. I told her it wouldn't both me if my cat had bad breath because I didn't intend to get close enough to it to care and my wife responded as she always does - as if I had said absolutely nothing. After listening to an extended lecture on how the build-up of tartar on the cat's teeth would likely result in those teeth falling out, I realized once again that I had no choice in the matter. So, I moved on to the next question. How much was this essential procedure going to cost? When she told me the price I thought there must be something wrong with my hearing so I gave both ears a good poke and a slap to shake out any ear wax that might be lodged in there and said: "Say that again." Then I learned what is meant by the expression: 'His jaw hit the floor.' It was a miracle I didn't knock all my teeth out. My wife repeated that the veterinarian's charge for this procedure would be about $270.00. That is, if everything went well. If something went wrong however, if for example the cat had to stay overnight, the cost would probably double! Being the imbecile that I am, I then asked why it cost $270 to clean the cat's teeth when $2.70 could pay for the cost of cleaning my teeth for about a month. My wife responded that there is a lot more to cleaning an animal's teeth than there is to cleaning a person's teeth. So, the appointment was made and, after a few weeks of skipping meals to pay the cat's dental bill, the big day arrived and off to the vet we drove. This is always an enjoyable experience because every time we take the cat anywhere in the car my wife has to hold the cat's paw as we drive. The cat is in his own blue and yellow plastic cage, or as my wife puts it, his transportation vehicle, and obviously does not enjoy anything associated with taking him off his favorite chair or couch. Both of which used to be mine. When we arrived we were asked to wait until the veterinary dentist could talk to us. We sat with all the other pet owners whose various pets were waiting to be seen by a vet, surgeon, ophthalmologist, proctologist or any other type of animal specialist I foolishly thought were only associated with people. The only seats left happened to be in the middle of the room, which gave me a great vantage point to observe all the other people and their pets. A woman to my right had a large ugly black dog called 'Baby.' I knew this because every time the dog lunged at my throat with its mouth wide opened exposing its sharp white teeth the owner would say: "Now, Baby, be nice to the man beside you." Our cat, at this point, crawled into a corner of its cage and apparently died. I say 'apparently' because I think it was only pretending to be dead so it wouldn't attract the attention of the large ugly black dog that was attempting to tear out my throat. I hoped it was pretending because I didn't want to have to pay for my cat to see a cardiac specialist after he had his teeth cleaned. The person to my left was hidden behind an animal that appeared to be a cross between a dog and an elephant. All I could see of the owner was a pair of shoes and I hoped that whoever occupied those shoes also had a firm hand on their pet's leash. Every now and then I would hear a voice from behind the beast telling 'Tiny' to relax and not get too excited. Not that Tiny seemed at all excited but then I wasn't as familiar with his personality as his owner. At one point Tiny yawned, exposing a tongue bigger than a beach towel which he flapped around briefly, covering everybody within a 20-foot radius with a spray of doggy drool. Directly in front of me were two immaculately-groomed animals, one with long brown hair, the other with long blond hair, both of which sat beside their owners, all of them in the same straight-backed position, as if they had all just graduated from obedience school. Both dogs wore what looked like diamond collars but, even more impressive, was that both had diamond earrings dangling from the tops of their perfectly groomed and pierced ears. I felt so grubby and inadequate by contrast, just coming in to spend $270 getting my cat's teeth cleaned. I sat up in my chair, wiped Tiny's drool out of my hair and beard and made sure my shirt cuffs were straight. The dogs and their owners all stared at me, all shaking their heads slightly, as if I ought to be in the cage with my cat. As I turned my eyes to the back of the room I was shocked at the sight of something I would never have expected to find in a veterinarian's office. A woman with a ventriloquist's doll on her lap. For a moment I thought this must be a veterinary practice that catered to showbiz types, which would explain the diamond earrings on the dogs. However, when I looked again I realized the woman wasn't holding a ventriloquist's dummy at all. It was a dog wearing a pink and yellow dress and a lace hat with real flowers decked all over it. The little lap-dog looked back at me with an expression of complete confidence in its eyes, as if it just knew it was the most ravishing creature in the entire world. At that point I was ready to agree with it. At last the cat dentist, or whatever the hell he was, appeared and explained the procedure that he was about to perform on my cat. He explained that he would have to put the cat under an anesthetic and, if the cat died during the procedure, the doctor or the hospital would not be responsible. He also pointed out that if our cat did not survive the procedure we would still have to pay for the teeth-cleaning - plus a bill for disposing of the body! He then took our cat off to the cat dental surgery and my wife and I settled down for a long and anxious wait. Ten minutes later he was back, the procedure went fine and the cat looked exactly the same as when he went in; comatose. When I got him home I smelled his breath and it smelled of what it always smells of; tuna and the teeth looked exactly like they did before; small, white, and pointy. For the life of me I couldn't see where the $270 went in 10 minutes. I made my mind up there and then. Next time the cat needs its teeth cleaned I think the procedure will involve a sturdy pair of oven gloves, the kitchen sink and a tube of Crest! The End
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