Keeping The Whites Pearly

Tilly got to go to the vet yesterday for a much-needed tooth cleaning. Greyhounds are known for their bad teeth. Apparently, it has to do with a combination of bad genes and the poor diet they receive at the racetrack.


She was 3 when I adopted her through a greyhound rescue agency, and her teeth were already kind of grody then. We've had them cleaned twice before, and she eats lots of crunchy food that should help make them strong. But they've continued to deteriorate.


Poor old girl. She had to get six teeth pulled during yesterday's cleaning and felt miserable when I picked her up. Her mouth bled all through the night. The vet said it was normal for that to happen. She's extraordinarily spry today, though. Probably knows she's going to get the fat off the brisket Mama cooked for dinner.




Augie's breathing a sigh of relief that he didn't have to accompany her to the appointment. But he'll get his turn soon enough. And since he's not required to be on a soft diet for the next week, no brisket fat for him. Okay, maybe just a sliver.


Heck, maybe I should get all of this guy's teeth pulled, too. He's been nipping my hand for almost 16 years. He probably wouldn't mind a few extractions; that would mean he'd get to eat canned food all the time.

Or, I could get this devil de-beaked so she'd quit biting. Now there's an idea. They'd have to sew on some lips, though.