If I could keep the money I have spent on my sweet dog child in 2010 alone...
Last night, Fletcher woke up in a pool of his own blood. After an examination (we consider ourselves amateur veterinarians at this point) and a minor freakout on my part, we thought he bit his lip, cleaned him up, and we all went to sleep.
This morning, something didn't seem right as he was drooling nonstop (Fletcher is not a drooler, thank god). Further examination revealed that he had broken his canine off. That's right: completely off, down to the root. In his sleep.
An early morning trip to the vet confirmed he'll need to be back first thing Monday morning to have it pulled (and to be microchipped, have his teeth cleaned, and have a scar on his back fixed while he's sedated). The vet said the tooth was probably already cracked and he just chomped down too hard during one of his dog dreams.
I, of course, am traumatized. Fortunately, Fletcher is totally fine. He is pain free, as crazy as ever, and happy to be on a diet of wet food until he's all healed up.
I say it all the time, but it is a good thing he's cute:
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