This time I not so subtly reminded Dr. P that no one had taken x-rays to look into things further, because looking in her mouth reveled infections but we always ended up back at the vet a month later. If you have every seen a human dental xray of an abscessed tooth, where the white tooth has a dark and hazy splotch where the roots fit in, this was very similar. Once pulled apparently there was quite a foul smell, as is wont for infections. And, she very likely has stomatitis in the gums behind the original, rear-most tooth bed.
In hindsight, our original vet who performed June's maxillary extractions had noted an "itty bitty" dot of gum involvement on one of the mandibular back teeth that would likely clear up with the antibiotics so she left it alone. Thinking back, I want to believe that it was simply missed or that it was subtle enough in the mandibular teeth that its significance was misinterpreted. But I also wonder if they capped the surgery at those seven maxillary teeth because they had already surpassed the payment estimate of "as many as six" teeth. But I'm not going to worry about that now.
Instead, I'm going to worry about the wobbly legged, operetta chirping, voracious mini monster that comes with newfound pain relief. Last night when we got home she had no use of her legs since the anesthesia was still wearing off. But that did not stop her from trying. This is all she had:
Nathan and I were in absolute stitches for the first few minutes from her little dainty-paw air wafts. Then it became a little sad when she just wouldn't stop. Five minutes later and she'd make it a couple feet farther from somehow righting herself enough to plop over onto her other side but make it forward a smidge. I kept trying to make a soft, welcoming spot on the floor so she wouldn't, say, fall off the bed when we weren't looking. Kitty bed by the radiator, kitty bed tucked under a chair, towels folded up, towels spread out since ten minutes later she kept righting and falling, righting and falling.
Once assured that she was on the ground but away from unstable objects I turned my attention to putting away a few groceries, then turned around to find her fore legs on the lip of the litter box, hind legs frog splayed and wafting away on the floor. So I gave a little hind leg lift, helped her climb inside. Luckily this was the clean litter box since with whole pine chunks, for those who don't know, they always leave one unused while absolutely destroying the other, and I was worried of her face planting into and aspirating used litter. She landed frog splayed again, unsuccessfully tried a few times to change position and got perfectly still. Heard only one tinkle, which means the pee did not have far to fall. Sure enough, thirty seconds later she was calm when picked up and had pee all over her frog splayed parts.
As I clean her off with the washcloth I realize just how similar this is to working with patients in acute care, be it medication fog or difficulty with getting to the bathroom physically or something like dementia with fluctuating incontinence. Pump them full with IV fluids and you've got a mismatched continence challenge. Except this time I facilitated the continence of my cat. And through all that she managed to not go anywhere else except the litter box. Attaboy, girl.
This morning she can jump onto the counter and make it a majority of the time after a momentary foreleg mantle. And she is voracious. She even took a lick of my coffee in desperation while I prepared her food as fast as I could. Not a suitable option, in her opinion. Chirping and wagging and giving her sister hell. Nice to have that back.
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