This is hanging on our fridge.
Hunny had her oral surgery today. She's my hero. She had a major chewing tooth extracted. It was so badly infected, the surgeon had to "drill up into her skull." Her vet said he didn't want to freak me out by telling me that but he went on to say the infection had gone into the bones of her mouth. Apparently it had been there for about four to six months. (how do they know these things?) Even though he thought that was a long time to have an abscess -- or, basically, a rotting tooth -- I was relieved to hear this wasn't something that started years ago. Of course, now I'm thinking about all the things I've been giving her in the last six months. More treats than ever. Greenies. People food. Not a lot, but I had never given her table scraps. She has her food. I have mine. I've gotten soft in *our* old age. Apparently, so have her teeth.
Her vet is so nice. I really like him. He gave me detailed information and specific instructions regarding her medication, feedings, care, etc. I thanked him for being so wonderful and he said, "Oh please, thank you for letting us take care of her and for being so good at what you do." I'm not sure what that meant. But I do know Hunny proved to them how attached to me she really is.
When we brought her in this morning, I said to the technician, "I'll walk alongside you. Otherwise Hunny won't go with you." He smiled and allowed me to pretend to go with them. As I made a quick U-turn to duck out of Hunny's sight, I heard BANG, CRASH, SCUFFLE, SCRAPE! Another technician and the vet ran to help as Hunny was trying desperately to escape back to me. She almost made it. I had to hide. Everyone was chuckling and a little surprised. You know, 'cause Hunny was so sweet, gentle and quiet the whole time before. Even her weight surprised them. I'm pretty sure by then they understood then what I meant when I said she's solid.
When they finally got her to the back room, the vet came out to me and joked, "Maybe if you beat her more, she'd be more willing to leave you." Yeah, she's a tad bit attached to me. For a moment I wanted to cry. My poor baby. I wasn't scared or worried. I know she was in good hands. I just felt bad for being part of a moment that caused her so much fear.
She was so disoriented when we brought her home, it broke my heart. She was bug-eyed and ditzy from the anesthesia. I spent a lot of time laying next to her, holding the space for her to find some restful position. She fell asleep by my side a few times. When she wanted space, she took it. When she needed attention, she asked for it. And I jumped for her.
At one point she heard a knock on the door. She instinctively barked, jumped off the bed and headed right past the front door to the kitchen. Then back through the living room. Then I think she forgot what she was doing because she sat down, gazing to the floor.
I dropped to the floor with her and told her how wonderful she is. I gently led her back to the bedroom and guided her to lay down again. I can only imagine what kind of hallucinations she's having -- sound asleep with her eyes wide open. I can see her reactions. I hear her responses. Light whines, some singing, purrs (yes, she purrs). And I wouldn't be a mama if I didn't stop everything in a moment of panic, checking to be sure she's still breathing -- at least once ... every hour!
She and I are on the same antibiotics (yeah, I laugh at that). She's on different pain killers. And she has a personalized homeopathic tincture from her vet. (right on!) We're both on the road to recovery. And we both need to see our doctors for follow-ups in two weeks.
Hunny's a Warrior. She ate a little, drank some water, and now she's sleeping again, at my feet. Sweet Love.