They took my tooth away.
My lovely, bright, shiny invisible tooth, which I have never actually seen (it being a wisdom one), and which was also, so I learned, rotten to the core.
Well, maybe not to the core, and I'm not sure they used the word "rotten", for my mind was somewhat clouded at the mentioning of the possibility of an actual dental operation, but something was wrong with it, and out it went.
That has been my first time at the dentist, ever.
I am now reduced to eating baby fool and growling. My upper jaw hurts horribly, and my mouth, besides being quite sensitive to the touch, reminds me constantly of the ropes they used to tie back the place where my poor tooth has been.
I say "ropes", and I do mean it. Some observers might claim that the good doctor used only the most delicate of strings, but then I am the only one who goes to sleep with my teeth roped together for fear of falling off.
Or so I feel.

I'm not depressed, mind you. I just wait patiantly for this thing to go away. I must have some real food ere I get crazy.

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