The tongue is ever turning to the aching tooth

Some of you might remember the last time I went to see Dr. Rodriguez, one of my supreme arch enemies. That woman has been nothing but a pain in my feline ass for as long as I can remember. Normally, I could care less if she graduated from Texas A&M, owned two dogs and two cats at home, or possessed a good bedside manner.

Now, though, I really don't give a damn.

This woman is trying to steal my sexual prowess!

As if there's even that much to steal!

Isis and I had our annual exams this morning, and for once, I lowered my head and decided to go with the so-called "flow". I let Dr. Rodriguez pet me, exam my ears, feel along my belly, and even poke at my gums. She spoke to me calmly, whispering sweet nothings, but I wasn't fooled. I knew she had bad news for me.

That's why I wasn't surprised when she told me that my body was rejecting my own teeth.

"Um, they're my teeth, and unless I'm mistaken, the last time I checked, they're a part of my body. I thought every part of me was getting along so well," I said.

"Well, Zeus, we don't understand it, but some cats produce an enzyme in their old age which attacks the teeth. You seem to have this problem. No one knows why it happens or what triggers it, but some of these teeth have to go," Dr. Rodriguez replied.

The look I gave her neared frustration. "Excuse me, but have you seen me? I'm a svelte fifteen pounds. Lady, I need to eat."

"No worries. You'll be able to eat just fine," she said with a chuckle.

Oh really? No worries? Last time I checked, the ladies don't like a toothless, gummy feline. It's bad enough I don't have my hoohahs, but now, she wants to take my teeth. My chances of ever finding a female are slowly fading into the perpetual sunset over Eunuchville.

I cried.

Isis, on the other hand, wasn't about to be handled by Dr. Rodriguez. She poofed out, performing her classic 'blowfish kitty' routine. She growled, hissed, spat, and then right when Dr. Rodriguez thought perhaps Isis was warming up to her, she went on an all-out attack, complete with flailing claws.

Isis ran to the human pet and cowered on her lap. The human pet, though, did not help her. She put Isis back on the table and laughed. You heard me: Laughed. I wanted to smack her. What kind of pet am I raising?

As always, I'm the one with the problems. Isis never hears any bad news when we go to see Dr. Rodriguez. I think that woman plays favorites, but that figures: Females always stick together.