For today’s factoid: Dogs have 42 teeth. (And in case you’re wondering, people generally have 32.) 12 incisors, 4 canines, 16 pre-molars, and 10 molars, regardless of size of dog.
Dogs also have less than half as much enamel as people, which helps explain poor Mamie and her teeth – or as of Monday, lack of them.
When we first adopted Mamie at age 6, along with having her spayed, we also had her teeth cleaned. Things went along well, I made sporadic but what felt like ineffectual, attempts to brush her teeth. Unfortunately, she has jaws that clamp as tightly as an Alaskan steel bear trap if you approach her with medicinal intent.
She is also the one dog on the planet with no interest in gnawing or chewing on anything, even the tasty Greenies, a product meant to trick a dog into chewing it’s teeth clean.
Her breath reached epic proportions, our vet told us she needed them done again, and then Covid hit, and then her heart problems arrived. Was it safe to put her under sedation to do the cleaning?
Our vet gave us the go-ahead, and on Monday what turned into a cleaning became an extraction – many extractions – instead. 20 teeth, to be exact.
(Only one of many.)
A couple of jars of turkey baby food, softened kibble, and she’s
returning to her old self.
Although it's hard to tell the difference between recuperating and her usual schedule of 23 hours of napping.
Plus, I’ve become such a master at disguising pills in cheese that I’m considering volunteering for cheese sculptures at the next state fair.