climbing rungs, feeling closer to a chute

A few weeks ago, Juliet and I went to meet the kitty dental surgeon, a confident and capable-seeming woman. She told me that her nineteen-year-old kitty "went to heaven with pearly white teeth" because she was putting her own kitty under twice a year for teeth cleaning.

She was very gentle with Juliet, but still, J showed her displeasure by walking to a corner of the examination table and hissing at all of us. Quite understandable.

I was pleased that the doc kept telling me that she has a special place in her heart for old kitties, and she kept sneaking in little pats on Juliet's head. And the doc says she will take the risk if I will. So we've scheduled surgery for next Tuesday, with a bunch of prophylactic preparations to make before then.

Sidenote 1: In the small world department, I mentioned all this to a dear friend who immediately knew the name of the doc because they're neighbors. Somehow that makes me feel better, perhaps because of the warmth with which the discovery was made.

Sidenote 2: The vet techs I know have all responded positively to the doc's name. They like her personally and she has a good reputation. Given the number of vets one of these techs does not like, I feel that I have gotten a high recommendation, not to mention the one from Dr. Randy.


Juliet contines to do well, and even to improve in tiny bits. Her jumping is more sure, her appetite is good, her affection level is high. She usually hates sitting in my lap, but the other night (ok, in the absence of Robert), she stayed on my lap for over an hour. Most days when I wake up, I'm subjected to a face washing. In short, I feel my connection to Juliet deepen, and I am heartened to see her act with such vigor and joy.

Our visits to Dr. Randy continue. I am convinced that much of the slow, steady improvement I'm seeing is due to his care. And so, on Tuesday at our last visit, it was a real blow when R felt her cheek and said that the lump has gotten larger. He looked inside her mouth and told me that pretty soon, the lump will get in the way of her ability to eat.

Earlier, I was wrestling with the decision to have the surgery, but now it's pretty clear we have to do it -- that she's likely strong enough to get through the surgery, and we can't let this lump take over her mouth. On the other hand, the fact that the lump is growing makes me wonder if we can get the whole thing, if it's spread, if it's all pointless.

Last night, over dinner, a friend asked how Juliet is doing. I told a brief version of this story, and my friend immediately replied "Are you ready to say goodbye to her?" Of course not, but I will let go if need be.