- Joined
- Aug 30, 2017
- Messages
- 21
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Hi everyone, I'm very new here - recently signed up after searching Google for a place I could come to for help with making the switch to raw food for my "kids". We have three cats - Oliver, Lexi, and Chance; and three Chihuahuas - Tinkerbell, Gizmo, and Finley. Chance is our newest addition, and the reason for our delve into the world of raw feeding.
Chance - aka Chancelot or Chancey Pants - just turned one year old at the end of July. He came into our lives totally accidentally. My husband and I (we have no human children, very much by choice) have had three cats previously but had to put down the two previous females 1.5 and 2 years ago due to health issues) and had decided we didn't want three again, so that left us with Oliver. He was 11 when his second "sister" passed away, and had never been an only kitty. He did okay, but after about 5 months we made the decision to bring home a new kitten to keep him company. So, we found itty bitty Lexi through a rescue in another town, had to wait FOREVER for her to grow big enough to come home (she'd been found with her litter at just a couple weeks old living under a wood pile), and added her to the family. Literally two weeks after she came home, I got a call from my Mom asking for my help - she swore she could hear kittens crying in her neighbours yard, but Dad said she was nuts. Living only a couple blocks away, I went over to see what the fuss was about. After hanging out at the edge of her neighbour's yard for ten minutes and hearing nothing, there came the very definite sound of a tiny kitten crying it's little heart out. Mom went back into her house to get my dad, and me being me barged onto the neighbour's property without a thought to locate the kittens. I found them very quickly under a very large shrub right next to the neighbour's house. Got on my hands and knees, pushed through the branches, and quickly saw two itty bitty little babies heading towards me. There were also two itty bitty babies with them who I hadn't found in time and had already passed away. I scooped up the two who were still alive and beelined back to Mom's house with them in my arms. Dad brought me out a box and I put the two of them inside, and looked them over while Mom started calling the after hours emergency vet. One kitty was the vocal one, and what a set of lungs she had on her. She was a tiny little black and white fluffball, dirty and gunky and starving. The other, full black, was almost entirely quiet and didn't have as much strength, and I quickly saw he had an injured paw. His front right paw was only a shell - outline of edges and claws, and a big giant gaping hole that encased most of his paw. I could see bones and tendons easily, and it was full of maggots eating away at him. My heart broke and I was sure these two were past the point of saving, and that the trip to the vet would simply be to put them out of their misery.
Thankfully, we met up with the vet and he quickly kiboshed my fears. He took one look at them, including the almost gone paw, and figured it would be no problem to fix them up. Dad and I took them inside the clinic and the vet cleaned the poor baby's foot and spent quite some time pulling maggots out of him...they had eaten their way up his leg all the way to his "knee", and getting them all out was difficult. When they were finally gone, Dad wrapped the black and white baby in a towel and I wrapped the injured one up, and we syringe fed them and got their little bellies full. My little injured guy didn't eat anywhere near as much as his screaming sister, but proceeded to fall asleep in my hands and even gave me a little purr while we snuggled.
These guys were very young, only about 3 weeks old, so the vet asked that I take them home with me if I could overnight to make sure they were fed every couple hours and get their bellies full. So, despite having to work early the next day, they came home with me. It was already pretty late, so Hubby came down and helped me give them their next feeding, then off to bed he went while I stayed up all night with them. The little black and white one really did not want to stop squawking, while her brother was very quiet and slept like a champ. I quickly named them Banshee (screaming like that!) and Chance (because after being CERTAIN he would have to be put to sleep with such a horrible injury, he was getting a second chance).
The next day I brought them back to the vet clinic and they were surrendered to our local SPCA. They were simply way too young and Hubby and I couldn't care for them long term ourselves. However, Chance in particular had stolen my heart, and within a day and a half of surrendering them, I had convinced Hubby that Chance simply HAD to come live with us.
Of course, we had to wait until he was old enough to be adopted out as he now "belonged" to the SPCA. Thankfully, after this experience, Mom and I quickly hooked up with a local volunteer cat rescue group and signed ourselves up. Via this new group I had joined, I learned where Chance and Banshee were being fostered, and their foster mom was a wonderful person who immediately invited us over to visit them, given that we would be adopting Chance when the time came. So a week later we were able to see them again, and I couldn't BELEIVE how well his paw was healing! It was almost completely filled in and healed over, just a big scab remaining. And just with some hydro therapy! (His foster mom is a vet tech at a local clinic, which is why they went to her). We got to seem him one more time after that, and he was good as new. Then we had to wait until he was old enough/big enough to be adopted out. Finally the time came, and it had been about 3 weeks since we had seen him last...and I was astonished to learn my fluffy little all black kitten was now a little silver and black werecat! If it hadn't been for his "frankenfoot", I would have said they gave me the wrong kitten. Unfortunately the metamorphosis didn't last, and eventually he grew back into a handsome all-black cat.
He and Lexi became fast friends, and having two kittens just a few weeks apart in age has been fun. Oliver took to him with surprising ease, and the dogs all love him. Unfortunately, our little Chancey Pants soon had MORE issues - at just three months old started having urinary issues, which have been diagnosed as idiopathic cystitis. It's been a battle ever since to keep him healthy. He's had a couple flare ups since then, and we've been working on finding ways to manage it. We've made massive changes to his diet in particular, and after a blockage incident a couple months ago the vet finally pushed me to start feeding him prescription kibble and canned food. It hasn't worked the miracles they all swore it would, of course, and I hate feeding any of my kids that junk, so we're giving raw a go to see if it helps him. And what's best for one, is best for all, so everyone gets raw now! Fingers crossed that it works for Chance!
Chance - aka Chancelot or Chancey Pants - just turned one year old at the end of July. He came into our lives totally accidentally. My husband and I (we have no human children, very much by choice) have had three cats previously but had to put down the two previous females 1.5 and 2 years ago due to health issues) and had decided we didn't want three again, so that left us with Oliver. He was 11 when his second "sister" passed away, and had never been an only kitty. He did okay, but after about 5 months we made the decision to bring home a new kitten to keep him company. So, we found itty bitty Lexi through a rescue in another town, had to wait FOREVER for her to grow big enough to come home (she'd been found with her litter at just a couple weeks old living under a wood pile), and added her to the family. Literally two weeks after she came home, I got a call from my Mom asking for my help - she swore she could hear kittens crying in her neighbours yard, but Dad said she was nuts. Living only a couple blocks away, I went over to see what the fuss was about. After hanging out at the edge of her neighbour's yard for ten minutes and hearing nothing, there came the very definite sound of a tiny kitten crying it's little heart out. Mom went back into her house to get my dad, and me being me barged onto the neighbour's property without a thought to locate the kittens. I found them very quickly under a very large shrub right next to the neighbour's house. Got on my hands and knees, pushed through the branches, and quickly saw two itty bitty little babies heading towards me. There were also two itty bitty babies with them who I hadn't found in time and had already passed away. I scooped up the two who were still alive and beelined back to Mom's house with them in my arms. Dad brought me out a box and I put the two of them inside, and looked them over while Mom started calling the after hours emergency vet. One kitty was the vocal one, and what a set of lungs she had on her. She was a tiny little black and white fluffball, dirty and gunky and starving. The other, full black, was almost entirely quiet and didn't have as much strength, and I quickly saw he had an injured paw. His front right paw was only a shell - outline of edges and claws, and a big giant gaping hole that encased most of his paw. I could see bones and tendons easily, and it was full of maggots eating away at him. My heart broke and I was sure these two were past the point of saving, and that the trip to the vet would simply be to put them out of their misery.
Thankfully, we met up with the vet and he quickly kiboshed my fears. He took one look at them, including the almost gone paw, and figured it would be no problem to fix them up. Dad and I took them inside the clinic and the vet cleaned the poor baby's foot and spent quite some time pulling maggots out of him...they had eaten their way up his leg all the way to his "knee", and getting them all out was difficult. When they were finally gone, Dad wrapped the black and white baby in a towel and I wrapped the injured one up, and we syringe fed them and got their little bellies full. My little injured guy didn't eat anywhere near as much as his screaming sister, but proceeded to fall asleep in my hands and even gave me a little purr while we snuggled.
These guys were very young, only about 3 weeks old, so the vet asked that I take them home with me if I could overnight to make sure they were fed every couple hours and get their bellies full. So, despite having to work early the next day, they came home with me. It was already pretty late, so Hubby came down and helped me give them their next feeding, then off to bed he went while I stayed up all night with them. The little black and white one really did not want to stop squawking, while her brother was very quiet and slept like a champ. I quickly named them Banshee (screaming like that!) and Chance (because after being CERTAIN he would have to be put to sleep with such a horrible injury, he was getting a second chance).
The next day I brought them back to the vet clinic and they were surrendered to our local SPCA. They were simply way too young and Hubby and I couldn't care for them long term ourselves. However, Chance in particular had stolen my heart, and within a day and a half of surrendering them, I had convinced Hubby that Chance simply HAD to come live with us.
Of course, we had to wait until he was old enough to be adopted out as he now "belonged" to the SPCA. Thankfully, after this experience, Mom and I quickly hooked up with a local volunteer cat rescue group and signed ourselves up. Via this new group I had joined, I learned where Chance and Banshee were being fostered, and their foster mom was a wonderful person who immediately invited us over to visit them, given that we would be adopting Chance when the time came. So a week later we were able to see them again, and I couldn't BELEIVE how well his paw was healing! It was almost completely filled in and healed over, just a big scab remaining. And just with some hydro therapy! (His foster mom is a vet tech at a local clinic, which is why they went to her). We got to seem him one more time after that, and he was good as new. Then we had to wait until he was old enough/big enough to be adopted out. Finally the time came, and it had been about 3 weeks since we had seen him last...and I was astonished to learn my fluffy little all black kitten was now a little silver and black werecat! If it hadn't been for his "frankenfoot", I would have said they gave me the wrong kitten. Unfortunately the metamorphosis didn't last, and eventually he grew back into a handsome all-black cat.
He and Lexi became fast friends, and having two kittens just a few weeks apart in age has been fun. Oliver took to him with surprising ease, and the dogs all love him. Unfortunately, our little Chancey Pants soon had MORE issues - at just three months old started having urinary issues, which have been diagnosed as idiopathic cystitis. It's been a battle ever since to keep him healthy. He's had a couple flare ups since then, and we've been working on finding ways to manage it. We've made massive changes to his diet in particular, and after a blockage incident a couple months ago the vet finally pushed me to start feeding him prescription kibble and canned food. It hasn't worked the miracles they all swore it would, of course, and I hate feeding any of my kids that junk, so we're giving raw a go to see if it helps him. And what's best for one, is best for all, so everyone gets raw now! Fingers crossed that it works for Chance!
