California Roots out Amsterdam canals with friendly cat
“That tooth, Dan,” he said, “needs a root canal. I recommend..”
“No!” I replied. Emphatically.
“In a few weeks, it will hurt.” (See dental chair.)
“When I was in college, Sten, an Atlanta dentist told me that I needed a root canal. Foolishly, I agreed to let him experiment on my tooth. He twirled a circular rasp with diamond tipped ripping surfaces through the nerve endings in my tooth. The procedure reminded me of someone trying to start a fire with two sticks. And it hurt with the Novocain. It hurt when the Novocain wore off. In fact, my tooth hurt throughout my entire undergraduate career at Georgia Tech. The pain finally went away when I graduated. At that point, my dentist, returned from interrogation duties in Vietnam, told me…”
Flashback, Atlanta Georgia
“You need a root canal.”
“Never…” I began.
“. If you don’t do something the tooth will hurt in a year or so.”
“If I do something,” I replied. “It will hurt now. I’ll wait.”
“You’ll be sorry,” he replied “It will start hurting in less than a year.”
End Flashback
(I can’t remember the dentist’s name because, to protect me, my brain has removed most of this experience from personal memory.)
Back at the Santa Barbara Dental Pain Creation Center, I continued my rant: “After we moved from Atlanta, dentists in Memphis, Vancouver, Houston, Hanover, The Hague and Zurich told me that a root canal in that very tooth was absolutely necessary. The tooth didn’t hurt. When it did hurt, I had a root canal. The root canal took place 42 years after the initial recommendation.”
“This is a different tooth, Dan.” The dentist noted.
“That’s right. But I am going to wait 42 years before anyone touchs it with a rasp.”
“You’ll be..”
“I’ll be so old that that tooth will be my last one. You know, Dr. Erricsson, this visit reminds me of our time living in The Hague,” I continued.
Flashback, The Hague
Taking the family on a cheery learning experience, we somehow chose the Prison Gate Museum in The Hague. We were in the middle of an exhibit on medieval torture devices. Darius covered his eyes and demanded that we leave. I pointed out that these devices hadn’t been used for at least 900 years when..
“That looks like a dentist’s chair, Dad.” Mitra shouted. “They haven’t changed much..”
“That’s it, Nazy. We’re leaving!” I shouted.
End Flashback
Here in Santa Barbara, he grand(est)son is making friends with Monster, the cat that is to domestic felines like an Airbus 380 is to a hang glider. Monster has realized that Tom and Melika are going to keep the baby. Accordingly, he, the cat, is graciously ‘putting up’ with the new arrival. Getting along with cats comes with family genes. Our first cat, Gorbeh, frightened veterinarians, commandos with heavy weapons, and lion tamers - but she was friendly with Mitra.
Mitra and Gorbeh
Tiger and Monster 
This weekend we’re watching the Grand(est)son. Melika and Tom are in New York to surprise a friend. The day before they left, they went to a surprise birthday party in San Ynez. They got back at 1:00AM just in time to drive to Los Angeles to catch an early NYC flight. Because young Tiger has learned how to sleep the whole night in his crib, we stayed at Melika and Tom’s.
(Neither Naz or I wanted to risk confusing the baby with a different bed in a different house.)
I asked Melika for special instructions just in case he woke up the middle of the night.
“If he wakes up, I first send Tom.”
“Hmm…” I replied. “Don’t share that information with your Mother.”
“We want to make sure that he doesn’t come back into our bed. So if Tom can’t get him back to sleep, I sometimes climb into the crib with him.”
“That’ll teach him.” I thought. “Don’t share that information with your Mother either,” I said.
He slept, uninterrupted,for 9 hours. Unfortunately, he began sleeping at 9:30PM which means he woke up, hungry, at 6:30 in the morning. It was a shock for Nazy who wasn't aware that a time as dismaying as 6:30AM existed.
We fed him a delicious mango-oatmeal-peach breakfast (with yoghurt). Nazy reflected on the unprecedented early wake-up:
“I don’t know how Melika and Tom do it, When I was their age, I couldn’t have coped with a hectic social life like theirs.”
“I’m not sure I can cope with it at my age.” I replied.
“When you retired, Dan, I thought we’d just spend relaxing mornings sleeping late.”
“You mean relaxing afternoons sleeping late,” I replied. “I’m not sure you are aware that mornings exist.” I thought.
“Being a grandparent is more fun that having a relaxing, boring, mornings.” Nazy retorted.
“Babysitting a 10-month old baby in order to relax is like becoming a Catholic Bishop in order to meet girls,” I replied.
Earlier in the week, we took young Tiger to his music class. He is a music whiz. While all the other kids were watching their parent bounce a hula hoop in time to the music, Tiger grabbed two of them and swayed in time all by himself. In fact, by the time the music ended, Tiger had three hula hoops.
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