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Pearly Whites


Dr. H, Equine Dentist to the Stars, came out today and polished my pearly whites. I know you know I've been excited, so let me just break the bad news to you first—she didn't give me a choice of toothpaste flavors, and I didn't get a toothbrush or a sticker to keep afterwards. I did get some compliments, though, so it wasn't all bad!

I was a little nervous at first. Watching my friend Bongo stagger out of there, drooling, like he'd just been KO'd by a prize fighter . . . that made me a little nervous. Watching Dr. H adjusting her rolling cart of torture implements . . . that made me a little nervous. Watching Dr. H and her trusty assistant greet me kindly, and listen to my heart and lungs, and tell me I was lovely . . . that put me at ease. So at ease, in fact, that I voluntarily walked into the WEIRDEST situation I think I have ever encountered. 

First, they must have injected me with something—I barely felt the needle, but I sure felt the effects! The woman—my new friend—was there. She said, "I'll keep an eye on you, Bird," which helped. I was in no position to keep an eye on myself. 

When I was so loopy I could barely stand, they had me rinse and spit. Then, they put my head on a padded stand and commenced to literally FILE MY TEETH WITH POWER TOOLS! I kid you not! Yes, I'm yelling. 

I never cease to be amazed at the weird things humans can think up! Maybe they want me to have a smile that aligns more with American beauty standards now that I'm a famous blogger? I am not sure that's the reason, as I don't get a superficial vibe from this new woman. Maybe it has something to do with wanting me to have fresher breath, preparing me to do more author appearances?  

Dr. H evened up my smile in the front, then tuned up my molars—lefts and rights, tops and bottoms. I never knew I had so much extra tooth material in there. After she had ground all my sharp bits to dust, she had me rinse and spit again. I love this shiny clean tooth feeling, and my cheeks are feeling better than ever. I didn't realize how rough my teeth had gotten, but now I think I can chew more comfortably than before. Come to think of it, maybe that was the goal all along? Comfort, and chewing efficiency?

Dr. H and the woman took a good look at my worst scar—a 2 centimeter-long gash in my lip and gum. It sits a little forward of where a bit would go, and although I'm still a little touchy about the memory of pain it has healed as well as can be expected. Although it goes all the way down to the bar, near the root of an adjacent tooth, it doesn't seem to have caused any bone or tooth damage. They talked about my past, and my future, and the idea of trying me in something called a "hackamore". 

Dr. H called me a "good boy" and said I was easier to sedate than some mules—attributable in part to my Missouri Fox Trotter mother, perhaps, as that's a breed that apparently responds nicely to sedation. 

I am starting to feel more alert now, and ready for lunch. I will let you know how these new improved biting surfaces work! 

Ears to you,

GusBird



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