Sweet Relief

I could blame the black dog, I suppose, but the fact is that this latest dental disaster can only be laid squarely and wholly on my doorstep - she was only doing what comes naturally when she snatched my bottom plate from where I had so carelessly left it, unprotected and out in the open.  After three days of searching, all I was able to find was a sharp edged, pink and white sliver of denture, no bigger than a fingernail.  When I considered the persistence and patience this must have taken, not to mention the very cast iron-ness that would've been required of her belly, I had to admit it was a pretty impressive display of digestive destruction, far more extensive than any of the damage she'd inflicted on previous pieces of bridgework in similar circumstances.
This was no small matter of twisted wire and mangled enamel - no, this was full fledged annihilation with almost no evidence left behind.

How in the world do you eat an entire denture? I demand of her but she only looks at me innocently, one paw raised in supplication - and endearing and often seductive gesture, according to some of the books I've read on the breed - but one I've always suspected she uses to deflect responsibility for her actions.

At least, I tell her with dismal resignation, I won't have to explain teeth marks.  Again.  She lays her head on my knee - forgiveness achieved - and sighs contentedly.

Sharing this latest sin with my beloved dentist is quite out of the question, I realize, so I pocket the shard of leftover teeth and reach for the telephone book.  Neglectful and foolishly careless I may be, but I still have enough pride left to be ashamed - some new and anonymous dental work is clearly called for.

Then in the very wee hours of a Sunday night, I hear the sound of something hard being batted across the hardwood floor - it skitters and slides and I almost ignore it, thinking that one of the cats has gotten hold of a stray earring or perhaps a cigarette lighter - then my eyes fly open and I leap out of bed to find the tabby and the older black cat playing an enthusiastic game of Pong with nothing other than my missing bottom plate.  It's mostly unscathed except for that one little missing sliver and I wash it thoroughly, douse it in Listerine and hold my breath while I slip in in place.  And, sweet relief, it fits almost as it did before.

Back in bed, the black dog raises her head from the pillow and gives me a sweet, sleepy, satisfied smile.