Dogs, like many other carnivores, have specialized teeth for
shearing. These teeth come in pairs – an upper and a lower – and are modified
fourth premolars (upper) and first molar (lower). The sharp cusps create a
scissors-like action, obviously important for chopping up chunks of flesh into pieces
that can be swallowed. (Sabertooth cats had carnassial teeth, too – they did not
use their elongated canines for chewing!) Apparently, these teeth are
particularly susceptible to fracturing and abscesses in domestic dogs. This is
what happened to Tajji. She isn’t a “strong chewer,” like our old German
Shepherd Dog, but all dogs can exert tremendous force when they bite down.
About three years ago, as near as we can tell from her vet
records, Tajji suffered a slab fracture of one of her upper carnassial teeth.
The portion of the tooth on the lip (as opposed to tongue) side was broken but
not detached. This image
shows a dog with almost the same problem, a slab fracture with a movable chip. Tajji’s
fractured tooth was covered with tartar. We had no way of knowing how much
discomfort she was in, and how chronic pain might have exacerbated her
reactivity. It was clear to both of us that we needed to get to the tooth taken
care of. The vet offered to try to save the main portion of the tooth, warning
us that the exposed surface would need careful brushing to prevent decay and
new buildup of tartar. Rather than risk a problem that required a second dental
surgery when Tajji would be even older, we decided to go ahead with extracting
this one.
Because Tajji’s reactivity is heightened at the vet’s
office, either because of the presence (and smells and sounds!) of so many
other animals, or because she associates those smells and sounds with
unpleasant things happening to her, we wanted to give her a little extra help,
pre-operatively. At our request, the vet prescribed two anti-anxiety
medications (acepromazine and diazepam), which we gave an hour before her
appointment. She had a little trouble getting into the car, but we have never
seen her so calm in the vet’s office. We went with her back to the holding
area, where she went willingly into the large crate and lay down. Unlike our
old dog, who would yodel in distress when we left him at the vet, Tajji seemed
quite mellow. We’re hoping that the relatively easy dropoff will minimize any
association between the office and Terrible Things Happening To Dogs.
Our vet called a few hours later, saying that the surgery
had gone well, although Tajji was recovering slowly from the anesthetic. Once
the outer, fractured part of the tooth had been removed, the main portion was
black and foul-smelling, so it would have had to be extracted in any event.
We picked Tajji up later that day. She was on her feet but
still woozy, with a little blood in her drool and goopy, old-dog-looking eyes
(I think because the muscles around her eyes weren’t back up to speed). She
spent the rest of the day checked out or being cuddled. She is a dog who loves
lots of physical contact, so Dave and I got down on the floor and wrapped our
bodies around hers. She’d sigh and relax even further. The next morning, she
was interested in breakfast (soft food only!) but not at all her usual
energetic self. She’ll be on pain meds and antibiotics for another week or so.
For the first dose, we used the usual technique for getting pills into dogs,
then decided she’d had her mouth messed with enough for now. So we got some “dog
putty” – chicken flavored putty that you wrap around pills – and she happily
ate them. Given her age, a slow recovery is nothing to worry about, so long as
we see some improvement every day. I suppose that’s one of the lessons about
getting older, for us as well as for our animals. Patience and perspective! And
looking forward to a future without chronic dental pain.
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