Psychology

I really wish I could have majored in psychology.  I think I need it.  Then I can understand my own psychoses (and everyone else's, too).
That said, I bought Plaque Blast for Kellin (yes, as seen on TV) because he's too old to be put under for the vet to clean his teeth and they are nasty.  After I bought the stuff I saw all this ranting and raving on the Internet that it's poisonous.  Worried, I went to plaqueblast.com and the site had disappeared.  Needless to say, I kind of flipped out.
Well, the Plaque Blast finally showed the other day, and I was determined to send it back.  That is, of course, until Steve was late getting home, I got bored, and Kellin decided he needed to be right in my face for extended periods of time.  You know that smell at the fish counter in a land-locked, small-town grocery store?  That's what his breath smells like.  And since I've never liked seafood, it's doubly unpleasant.  Anyway, I sprayed the crap in his mouth because I figure people freak out about fluoride all the time and I happen to think it's a good thing.  Surprisingly, it cut the bad smell by probably 70%, and it didn't just cover it with a fresh minty scent.
If Jake can survive the popsicle stick, Kellin can survive poison Plaque Blast.
Right?