After about 24 hours of throwing up and gagging and general malaise (not eating or drinking, hiding from us, and mewing pathetically), we took Toby into the vet for a checkup. Our vet gingerly examined Toby’s jaw and throat and then called me over to see the three-inch needle wedged into the roof of her mouth and running down the back of her throat. So at that moment I proceeded to have an emotional meltdown. One team of vet personnel comforted me (keeping me from swooning right then and there) while the others prepped Toby for an extraction procedure.
Within an hour Toby was waking up from the sedative and the vet pronounced all well as she handed me the needle in a vial.
Sigh. Another item on my gratitude list: I’m so glad that the needle didn’t go past Toby’s throat, and that we have such a capable and kind veterinary friends.