No tooth? No ball.

Yes, I said it, and put my foot down. She knows, no ball, no bones, no toys. She doesn't like it, but she knows.

A loose tooth was discovered. I knew something was wrong in her mouth, the little pink tongue constantly flipping in and out like a snake tasting the air around her, but wasn't sure what the "wrong" thing was. I originally thought that maybe she bit her little pink tongue, but saw no evidence. So I searched her molars during our weekly teeth cleaning routine (she isn't a fan of the routine, but it's for her own good). Nothing.

I did it again the next week and found the offending item, and I'm really not sure how I could have missed it during the first search mission. A broken tooth, snapped in half, flopping around in her little mouth - her second one (though the first was many years previous). I'm not positive how it happened, but I have a feeling that the "head-caught-in-the-door-while-trying-desperately-to-search-and-destroy-the-vacuum", may have exacerbated the problem.

So this past Friday, she went in for the removal. A removal that went very similar to my impacted wisdom tooth extraction ... I was told a lot of digging, and I could tell from the pain afterwards that they must have dug right through my jaw bone into my neck looking for the roots. So, I felt her pain, but she did well, much better than I did with my removal, came out with one stitch and is on soft foods until tomorrow.

She is anticipating the re-introduction of her toys. Well, she didn't tell me in so many words, and actually that's me once again using anthropomorphization on the little dog, but I can tell that she's waiting with baited breath for the stitch to dissolve and the ball to be firmly planted in her little jaws. I can see it in her eyes. Only two more days...