Two Front Teeth: A Dental Tale

As the Farm Manager peels back the corn husks, I impatiently twirl and dance in the front yard. A couple of months ago, I could bite straight through the husk like it was soft lettuce or a graham cracker. Five weeks ago, I couldn’t even bite through grass. I couldn’t manage to bite corn at all. My rodenthood has never felt more appreciated, but having teeth that grow back automatically is truly a blessing and a joy. We capybaras are truly remarkable creatures, and once again I, Prince Dobalob, or Sir Hibby for short, am showcasing our extraordinary qualities.

I’m sure my loyal fans are curious about what happened to my front teeth. Honestly, I am too because I was unconscious when it happened. The Farm Manager and The Bartender were nearby, but there was a wall between us. I went behind the wall with two perfect front teeth and came back out with two fractured upper incisors—still my pride and joy—broken but still attached. Where’s the UNDO button when you need it? And why was I unconscious in the first place? What was I even doing at the veterinary clinic? And why didn’t the Farm Manager’s lucky hedgehog socks save me this time?

I have always been a slim guy, but I’ve gradually lost weight—8 pounds—over the last two years. My World Famous Brother, Caplin, had also been losing weight before his sudden death in 2010. That’s why the Farm Manager decided it was time for a checkup. My original vet is no longer available, so she opted to try a new one. The clinic is a new facility, and the veterinarian who would be examining me was a student of our very own ROUS Foundation veterinarian. I approved the selection, we set up the appointment, and I cooperated by getting into my harness, hopping into the car, and arriving EARLY! For a wild animal, I am quite well-behaved, sometimes.

While the sedative took effect, we discussed the plan. I would provide a blood sample, they would take three radiographs (which we used to call X-rays), and perform a dental exam. Rodents and Lagomorphs are notorious for dental issues, so if we’re losing weight, bad teeth are likely culprits. As we waited for the tranquilizer to kick in, the Farm Manager asked me to touch my nose to a target, allowing everyone to see my big beautiful incisors. If only I’d known how much attention they would get, I might have brushed them, but no matter. Even grubby gigantic teeth are impressive.

When I was nearly too groggy to walk, the Farm Manager coaxed me across the hall, through a door, and then they separated us. She protested, but clinic policy, yada yada, you get the picture. An hour and a half later, they returned her to me, apologizing for the fractured teeth (showing her the radiographs: teeth b, oblique skull b, and lateral skull b) but they didn’t know what had caused it. And I was allowed to go home. The good news is that, aside from the spontaneously fractured upper incisors, my teeth are in excellent condition—though there’s possibly a wee bit of bone loss in the jaw to monitor. My blood work came back normal, as far as they could tell (and they admit to not knowing much), except for the thyroid levels. But what are normal thyroid levels in a capybara? I have cataracts, but I have had those for 5 years. Oh, and I have dandruff.A bit humiliating, it’s become necessary to dispose of the black turtleneck sweaters.

This picture could easily be a video as well. I couldn’t sit or lie down, just subtly swaying. Something’s off with me when corn survives being so close to my mouth.

Off I went, drunk as a skunk, with my little bag of hospital discharge items and four shaky legs. I have no memory of getting to the car. The drive home is a blank. I don’t recall getting out of the car. However, I do remember not being permitted to enter through the front door, even in my broken and beaten state. No, they brought me around to the servant’s entrance, the one the Farm Manager uses, and confined me. Not literally, but they barricaded me on the deck to prevent me from staggering down the stairs and breaking my teeth or something. But I slept indoors, or so they tell me, because those days are a blur.

Lula the chicken kept me company during the day.

Initially, I didn’t move around much due to embarrassment over my stumbling, and honestly, I didn’t feel good. On that Tuesday night of the exam, I moved past the barricade at the top of the stairs to show that I could carefully descend without incident. The Farm Manager reluctantly took down both barricades. I dawdled through Wednesday and didn’t begin to recover from the anesthesia until Thursday. By Friday, I could almost walk in a straight line. But the anesthesia wasn’t the biggest issue.

Sorry, Farm Manager. That piece of corn is still way too big!

By Wednesday, it was obvious that I had lost all interest in eating. Despite walking better, I still wasn’t sober, and was too frightened to go to the front yard. I felt too woozy to swim or even enter my wading pool. Unable to open the kitchen door, I’d stand outside and stare at that annoying tiny doorknob until someone noticed and let me in. Though still interested in my milk, it had developed some strange gritty flavors. The only grass I could eat was the tenderest, slenderest blades, and they had to be cut for me. No long or coarse grasses, no potatoes, no hay, no corn, regardless of how they sliced it.

Grass . . . is . . . too . . . long!

I wasn’t even consuming my cecotropes, which collected in my pen every morning. At least they were left there instead of the kitchen, where I slept the first two nights. It was easy being good, as there’s hardly any poop when you’re not eating.

Coincidentally, the Farm Manager just acquired this fossil. It’s a molar from a Hydrochaeris holmesi, a capybara that lived in Florida over 10,000 years ago!

The Farm Manager was too overwhelmed to check the bag of discharge supplies at the vet, so she missed the fact that they sent me home with Critical Care—a substance no self-respecting capybara would touch—but no pain medication! She sent The Bartender back to the vet for pain meds, enough to last until their Florida abandonment plan vacation. On Thursday, I started eating a bit more of the cut grass, but I want to tell all veterinarians out there that CAPYBARAS WON’T EAT CRITICAL CARE!

Kind of a chop-chop salad bar. I still ate my oats, though.

Imagine being hit so hard that your two upper incisors (those big front ones) fracture but don’t fall out. They dangle, useless, and your mouth aches. I actually had cuts in my mouth that the Farm Manager treated with ointment for a few days. No one knew when my teeth would fall out, but we guessed it might take a week or two for them to grow out enough to fall out. Other capybara owners said they usually grow back fully in two weeks. The Farm Manager and The Bartender began to speak optimistically about their trip to Florida on Saturday.but no one began to pack.

That Thursday afternoon, both my front teeth fell out. Despite the pain meds, I stopped walking around and spent time sitting in different places, trembling lips and clenching teeth. The Farm Manager came by to chat and spotted one bloody tooth on the ground. I had decided against the Florida vacation.

For a couple of weeks, the Farm Manager chopped all my food into bite-sized pieces and carefully placed them into my mouth, past the gap where my front teeth used to be. My days consisted of consuming soft clipped grass, lettuce, and some crunchy milk. Unable to grasp anything with my mouth, even though my molars were intact, chewing with my altered dentition caused jaw soreness. After a few hand-fed bites, I would move my jaw back and forth and refuse more food. She found the second tooth, and instead of tormenting my injured mouth, she displayed the bloody relics on her desk, which was a relief. I endured another day without pain meds before sending The Bartender for more. The pain medication continued for a week. Almost two weeks passed before I could open the kitchen door properly. By three weeks, although nearly giving up on corn and potatoes, I managed some grass and lettuce and continued to drink milk. My eating and bowel movements gradually returned to near-normal volumes after a month. Took another five weeks for my teeth to sharpen enough to bite through corn husks.

Let’s briefly discuss teeth. Here is a picture of a creepy decapitated capybara head. Notice the significant gap between my upper incisors (the Bucky Beavers) and my molars. Capybaras lack canines, which may seem obvious. Our teeth, including the molars, grow continuously because of our tough, dirty grass diet. Unlike human teeth, ours have no roots, only growth buds embedded deep in the bone. Furthermore, whereas human front teeth protrude evenly from the gums, our upper incisors are exposed on the top and backed by bone extending out, attached with soft tissue.

My lower incisors continued to grow as well! Would their length eventually cause them to hit the roof of my mouth? Surprisingly, they did not. It did, however, take quite some time for them to form a new cutting edge alongside the new upper incisors. Corn husks and bamboo foliage aren’t easy to bite through—if you try, you’ll likely need scissors, but I have scissors built right into my mouth!

For many, this video might be quite unsettling, but it’s the only visual that captures the extent of my teeth’s breakage. The bloody marks reveal where the teeth were once held to my gums by soft tissue; this tissue was the sole support for my teeth following their fracture. As my teeth grew back in, they spread across the tissue, and eventually, the lower part of the tooth reattached itself to the gums. It took over two weeks for my incisors to extend to the edge of the palate—during that period, my mouth was too tender to bite into anything. Attempts to eat corn resulted in bloody spots on the cob as I managed to get kernels off using my lower incisors while pressing down with my sore upper gums.

Ironically, after my veterinary visit, I lost four pounds. Nearly four weeks later, my poop volume returned to normal, and my weight stabilized. It’s now been almost six weeks, and I can consume almost everything except hay and very tough outer corn husks. With another week of sharpening my teeth on grass, I should be able to tackle those too!