"Maggie is expecting to get a gold tooth when she has her dental work done," Mr. Ginley opined this week.
Mr. Ginley thought about this. "Aren't they going to put in a bridge or false teeth or anything?"
"Nope. She'll have to use her remaining teeth or gum her food from here on out," I stated.
As it turned out, our beloved Maggie, like a number of her feline compatriots, has bad teeth. We suspected as much from her ever-worsening breath, and most recently, the sensitivity around her mouth.
The vet confirmed this was the case when I took her in. We were encouraged to purchase the pet insurance, as we could then pay over time and would be covered in case any other defects in workmanship were to appear.
Fortunately, Maggie/Magwell/Maggie Lou(is) was only mildly traumatized by her visit to the vet. In this age of Covid, I had to wait in the parking lot while they escorted her inside, did the exam, then brought her back at the end.
It also meant I was able to sit in the comfort and convenience of my vehicle as they listed all of the charges for her impending treatment.
Yes, we both agreed, it's a good thing she's so darned cute. How can you look at that face and tell her to suck it up because things are tight right now?
And yes, of course she snuggles up under my chin, and my heart melts and, well, anyone with a furry (or feathered) family member knows exactly what I'm talking about.
So, no, there aren't any gold teeth in Maggie's future. No New York brim.
No matter how many times Mr. Ginley sings the ZZ Top song, alas, Maggie will be neither "bad" or "nationwide."
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