Fonky-Ass Teefs

Monty had a date with the vet today. We went to Boulevard Veterinary Clinic, right down the road. The trip was uneventful, as was the parking lot. I got inside and the vet looks like any rural vet's office anywhere. Old linoleum, pictures of grand kids on the walls and the homey smell of antiseptic laced with yelps from the back room. The old man in front of me (complete with suspenders) was picking up some version of anti-vermin pills for his dog (he was going to have to feed the little thing eleven of them within the day, we all wished him good luck on that one). An enormous short-haired German Shepherd jumped up in the back room and put his paws over the edge of the half-door. He looked happy enough so I took a deep breath and checked us in. We were ushered into the back room, Monty was doing just fine. A guy with piercings, tats and rings weighed Monty (a whopping 5.5 pounds) and then the vet came in. Monty's name is now Monteray. The old man carried on a lively conversation with Monty as he checked his teeth, pulled a huge wad of hair from between them (a new batch since I cleaned them last night) and clucked over his kickers. He called tat-man back in to put Monty into "The calming hold" that he was so fond of (grabbing his ears and with a hand under Monty's chest and lifting him half-way off the table). He pulled out what looked just like a pair of pet nail-clippers and started rooting around in the bun's mouth. SNAP! A bit of tooth went soaring through the air, pinging off of several walls and jars. Monty didn't even really blink, I flinched enough for the both of us though. Half a tooth down, three and a half more to go. Ten minutes later there were bits of tooth all around the room and Monty was getting his mouth rinsed out with a syringe full of water taken from a dixie cup. He wasn't happy, but he wasn't as worked up as I thought he should be. We were done. I got a handful of literature on "You're New Pet Rabbit" and paid the ten dollar fee (5 dollars less than they said it would be).
I got Monty home and he smelled like the vet's stale cigarette smoke. I still feel bad that he's going to have to do this ever three months or so. I cringe for the both of us.

The morning of our big day.
His Crraaazzzyyy teeth.And his slightly better teeth now. They're a little odd, I'll see how he's doing later tonight and decide whether I want to take him back there again or to a different vet.