Took Molly to the vet to get her teeth cleaned yesterday. Or what's left of her teeth, since half of her formerly-cancerous lower jaw was removed years ago. Molly, a skinny 9 pounds, is always eating, partly because it takes her twice as long to eat as Jordi. In this case, we couldn't feed her anything after midnight Wednesday. And boy, was she begging for food!

She meowed mournfully as I drove her to the vet; she knew where we were going. I felt like a parent taking a reluctant kid to his first day of school. Or maybe like my parents when they put me on that plane in California in August 1975, knowing I wouldn't return until May, after completing a year of college. At least I was mournful. Maybe they weren't.

The vet ended up removing two bad molars, so now Molly has even fewer teeth. But as a bonus, they removed all the rats from her hair, which mats up so easily. Pam spends a lot of time (photo, right) combing her out, and Molly cooperates well most of the time.

We retrieved her at 3:00, and she seems no worse for the wear.