Hey everyone, Alice here, a producer for This is Uncomfortable. People are shocked when I tell them that I brush my dog June’s teeth every night before bed. Then I tell them that having nine of her teeth pulled cost almost a month’s rent.
When I adopted June, she was 4 years old, with matted hair and teeth that smelled truly foul.
Her veterinarian agreed that she needed to have a dental cleaning and that they’d probably end up removing some teeth. The estimate they gave me was pretty broad: $500 to $1,400 depending on how many teeth they’d need to pull.
Those were tough numbers to swallow. But it was very clear that these teeth were rotting in her mouth, and leaving them would cause health problems down the line.
When I dropped her off at the office the morning of the surgery, I promised her that though this would not be fun, she’d feel a lot better afterwards.
Later that afternoon, I got a call from the vet: June was under anesthesia and they were getting a better look at her teeth. He told me that they’d need to pull six of them, which were decaying and infected. Ten minutes later, he called again. Three more teeth were borderline, if he didn’t pull them today he’d probably need to in a year.
That’s when I knew this procedure was going to be at the high end of that estimate. In the end, I told him to pull all nine. Anesthesia is expensive, might as well get my money’s worth.
When I arrived at the office to pick her up, I asked one of the office managers, “How bad is it?” He grimaced.
The procedure was $1,236.54. There was nothing I could do but pull out my credit card and hand it over.
As I was doing the mental math about the implications for my budget, the vet tech brought out June. She looked pathetic: groggy, with her paw bandaged where she’d had an IV. As I held her in my arms, I thought: I would do literally anything for you.
For what it’s worth, my vet is locally owned. I trust them to not fleece me — in fact, my vet is the one who first told me how private equity was buying up clinics and raising prices.
June’s mouth was fully healed after a few weeks, and it was time for me to protect my investment. Today, I keep June’s little tooth brush next to mine in the bathroom. Every night, after I brush my teeth, I brush hers while singing a little song I wrote (stream “Tooth Time” absolutely nowhere). I love her so much, and I am not paying for that again.
On Oct. 18, we’ll talk with Tananarive Due about her historical horror novel “The Reformatory.” It’s a story with connections to Due’s own family history, and it made us think about the economy of incarceration and the way racism transcends class.
What our team is watching, reading and listening to this week.
