Then the doc– a dude this time– poked and prodded and squeezed until I was about to puke.

Just my luck… it is “Pet Dental Month” at the Eastside Animal Medical Center. Apparently, I have Cat Gingivitis. The doc said that it could account for my exceptionally bad breath which, I admit, has really been hummin’ lately. It has been so bad at times, the Big Guy thought that I had bad gas. And while I do let a little noxious indiscretion slip occasionally, my breath has been kickin’.

So the Big Guy has been jamming pills down my throat every morning and evening in the hopes that the meds will clear up my rotting gums. I go back in a week for a check-up.

This is too much drama for a youngster like me. Apparently, the condition can be genetic, which might explain why my brother and sister have also been polluting the atmosphere with every breath, I hear.

On a positive note, I gained a little over a pound since my first vet visit. Life is good. Time for a nap.