It’s finally happened, Ernie lost one of his fangs. All of the cats are missing a fang, and lord knows The Lady and I have had our share of missing fangs through the years. As a matter of fact, I just got a gold crown a few weeks ago!

Last night I noticed that one side of Ernie’s face was swollen below his eye. I thought it might have been a bug bite or sting so I stopped by the vet’s office after our walk. Turned out to be two rotten teeth and an infection. We knew one of his fangs was bad, and the vet advised us just to keep an eye on it as might fall out on it’s own. No such luck for Ernie!

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Back when we lived in the loft, Gallagher always used to rush the door and run about half way up the stairs and then turn around and look back at us. She’s always been a drama queen, wanting to be chased, needing her alone time and hiding places… the usual. This ritual usually meant I would follow her, she would go up one more flight and then she would “let me catch her”. This happened almost nightly (and was actually occasionally fun if I was stoned).

One night she had apparently gotten out in to hallway unnoticed. It was kind of late, maybe around midnight, and the phone rings. Phone ringing in general makes The Lady nervous, but late night phone ringing is outer limits.

We’re screeners so I let the machine get it. It’s our nice upstairs neighbor muttering something about one of our cats getting out. Always good in a crisis, The Lady reacts: “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god… which one, which one, which one?”. I pick up the phone and find out she’s just in the hallway. The Lady then trims her mantra to just “Which one?” so I ask the nice neighbor (like he knows the names of our, at the time, 8 cats). “Uuuuhhhhh, the pretty one?”

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Mr. Littlehead, Mommie, Gallagher and Ernie have nothing to report at this time, except that they are probably hungry and Ernie would probably like to be on a walk if he is not already on a walk.

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