Poor Hank. He's always had bad teeth. When I first picked him up off the street in 1998, his breath stunk to high heaven, but I didn't think about it. Four years later, a month after I got laid off from a job, Hank ran up to the bed with a bloody muzzle. He wrote about it here. It cost me over $2,000, but at the end his teeth were fewer, but the remaining ones were good.
He's had a few cleanings since then, the last one four years ago. Lately, he's been rubbing his jaw on everything, so I took him in to the vet today, and she told me that he's got an infected molar which probably has to come out. AWWW. Poor Hank! Guy just has bad teeth--it's not like he's on crystal meth or anything.
He's been eating crunchy food all through this, although he certainly has the choice not to--the cats here get both dry and canned. So I'm sure he'll be back to crunchy after the dentistry.
Here's Henrey flossing his teeth.