After dropping Misty off for her dental trip, I raided Kroger to get the shopping done, and opted to pick up some softer soft food than the doggo’s usual special treat rations.

They still have a few Wellness CORE packs of meat/gravy “Toppers” from their Christmas presents; our usual stock of Pedigree meat/gravy bits that they get for a post-dinner treat a few nights a week; and now a few large cans of the ground/patte like version of that. In enough quantity that I don’t think there should be a problem. I also suspect, that like me: Misty not eating would be more of a question of “Are you still alive / is your jaw still physically attached?” kind of a problem than anything else.

When I had to deal with a bunch of teeth being out: I was stitched together long enough that food was generally painful until getting the stitches out. Hopefully, Misty won’t be that troubled.

On the flipside: pulling into Kroger, it was hard to keep my brain from thinking of it as my middle child joining me in the club, having been through a similar process. I’m not sure if that means I am definitely becoming the male/dog version of an old cat lady, or if I’ve just had too much dental work in my life.

Somehow, I don’t think the former idea bothers me as much as the latter. Willow, Misty, and Corky are my local tribemates. Much as Coco and my mother were in their lives. I’d also like to think the little sweet pea loves me more than my credit card company ever will.