Mr. Kitters and the Deathly Hallows

"I flipped to the end while you were in the bathroom. Before you demand that I
give your spot back, I figure you gotta ask yourself if it's worth it..."


(I finished it. I liked it. I'm hoping to have time to write about it tomorrow.)


Mr. Kitters is going in to the vet's to get his teeth cleaned tomorrow, so his food dish has been taken away. Who wants to place bets on how long it takes before he is yowling / kvetching / tearing the house apart in protest / gnawing on my arm while I sleep?

(Also, I'm sort of nervous about him going under the anesthesia tomorrow, even though his pre-procedure bloodwork came back just fine, so good thoughts / crossed fingers would be appreciated. Worrywart, thy name is velocibadgergirl.)

(Furthermore, we're throwing down an extra $5 for the vet techs to brush out his fur while he's under. I'm predicting he'll come home two pounds lighter. Any takers?)

(Last parenthetical, I promise:  as I was typing this, he jumped up on the counter and started wailing piteously at the cabinet where the treats are kept. It's going to be a long night...his choppers had better come back looking pearly white for all the trouble.)


UPDATED 7/26/07 at 1:50 PM

He's home, a little bit bleary-eyed and trying to decide if he's mad at me, but otherwise fine.

In an adorable and yet utterly bizarre twist, the techs apparently take before & after photos of their dental patients (I guess so the pet parents have proof of results after laying out $125). I was given this photograph when I picked him up:


There's something really incongruous about those huge-ass fangs hanging out in the same frame as that cute pink nose. If I'd known they were planning to take pictures, I'd have given them a little party hat and a tiny coconut bra to put on him once he was unconscious.