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I just about shit a brick. Not a red one, either. A big gray cinder block. Extra large, covered in hot sauce, and on fire.
I was playing with Milla and after hand-wrestling her on the floor, I picked her up and noticed something just outside her mouth. A piece of food? Foam or other padding from a shoe? A newly shed claw? A tooth sticking out of her mouth as her tongue sometimes does? No, no, no, and no, but a tooth forsooth—a disconnected tooth!
Why did my four and a half month old kitten lose a tooth, I wondered. Was I too rough with her when playing or picking her up? Did she crash into something while running around the apartment at blurring speeds? While jumping onto or off of something?
And what is this?! Not one, but two raw-looking places in her upper gums?! Oh no! My sweet little kitten is too young to have bad teeth and I am too poor to take her to a veterinarian for medical treatment. The sky is falling! We're doomed!
But wait. Two symmetrically located raw-looking places and nothing else appearing unhealthy or otherwise unusual except perhaps for some slightly puffy gums and some rather short-looking teeth. No whining. No yelping. No crying. She still purrs when I hold her and pet her. She clearly isn't fond of me looking in her mouth, but she never is; she isn't acting like she is hurt when I do so—just slightly annoyed. Because… wait, do cats do that? Do cats lose baby teeth?!
It seems so. Once again, my kitten has freaked me out, nearly causing me to die on the spot of a heart attack thinking her seriously injured while she remains fine. Whew!
I wonder what happened to Milla's other apparent missing tooth. Perhaps she swallowed it or perhaps I will soon discover it with the most tender, vulnerable part of the bottom of one of my bare feet. I think I will keep the one I have and any others I find, at least for now.
