Yéti, Chat Mexicain

De mes 3 chats, Yéti a toujours été celui dont j'étais le plus proche. C'est lui qui, à la mort de mon frère ne me lâchait pas d'une semelle et celui avec qui je faisais le plus de câlins. Monsieur était plutôt sauvage, fuyait les inconnus (même si ces derniers temps, il s'était grandement sociabilisé et venait se frotter contre les jambes des potes qui passaient à la maison), était un chasseur exceptionnel et avait tout un tas de rituels, notamment au moment du coucher, assez particuliers. 

Si je parle au passé, c'est parce qu'hier soir, nous avons dû prendre la douloureuse décision de le laisser partir. Yéti souffrait de gros problèmes urinaires depuis quelques années et depuis quelques mois, il faisait de l'insuffisance rénale. Comme je l'avais déjà commenté dans un post antérieur, son pronostic vital n'était pas encourageant mais étant donné qu'il continuait à s'alimenter correctement et à vaquer à ses occupations de chat comme si de rien n'était, il n'y avait pas forcément lieu de s'inquiéter. 

Tout a basculé en début de semaine. Il ne sortait quasiment plus de son panier sous le radiateur, ne mangeait plus, ne buvait quasiment plus non plus. En conséquence, ses passages par la case litière étaient rares et souvent, il n'y faisait rien. Même l'approche de Lucie ne le faisait plus s'enfuir. Il avait perdu tellement de poids qu'il n'était plus que l'ombre de lui même. Ça me fendait le cœur. Et quand vendredi matin, il a vomi le peu qu'il avait ingéré la veille au soir, on savait que le moment était venu de prendre la décision d'abréger ses souffrances. 

On a quand même souhaité faire des analyses de sang, peut être plus pour s'assurer que ce qu'on avait observé était bien dû à sa maladie qui avait définitivement pris le dessus. Peut-être aussi pour nous rassurer sur la décision que nous nous étions résolus à prendre. 

Je ne suis pas sûre que la vétérinaire avait déjà vu des taux aussi élevés. Il était en souffrance, c'était une évidence désormais. Il était en train de mourir de faim, de soif et empoisonné par son propre sang.

La première piqûre d'anesthésie nous laisserait le temps de lui dire au revoir. Contrairement à ce qu'avait dit la véto, il n'a pas miaulé, il ne s'est pas débattu. Il était prêt. Probablement depuis bien plus longtemps que nous. 

Ecrire ces lignes font du bien même si je suis en larmes. Yéti, mon petit chat mexicain, né dans la rue à Puerto Vallarta et mort en Charente en France. Je pense qu'il aura vécu plus de choses que le chat commun! 

Tu ne souffres plus désormais. Tu reposeras dans notre jardin, au pied d'un noyer que tu aurais adoré escalader. Tu me manques. Jamais je ne t'oublierai.

RIP mon petit Yéti. Merci pour toutes ces années à mes côtés.

Yéti, A Mexican Cat

Out of my 3 cats, Yéti has always been the one i've been closer to. It was him who, after my brother's passing, took care of me and wouldn't leave me alone and the one i was cuddling with more than any other. He was rather wild, fleeing as soon as people he didn't know were here to visit (even though he got better lately), was an exceptional hunter and had a whole bunch of unusual rituals, especially at bedtime.

If I'm speaking in the past tense, it's because yesterday evening, we had to take the painful decision to let him go. Yeti was suffering from urinary problems for quite a few years now and a few months ago, he got kidney failure. As i mentioned in an earlier post, his life expectancy wasn't good but since he was feeding himself well and was his usual self, there was no need to over-worry.

Everything dramatically changed a few days ago. He wouldn't leave his basket under the heater, wasn't eating nor drinking. Consequently, his trip to the litter box were rare and more than often, he wasn't doing anything in it either. Even our daughter's approaching him wasn't making him run away anymore. He had lost so much weight he was only a shadow of his former self. It was heartbreaking. And when, on Friday morning, he puked the little food he had eaten the night before, we knew the moment had come to stop his suffering.

We still decided to have blood samples done. Maybe to make sure that what we had witnessed was due to his illness. Maybe to reassure ourselves that we were about to make the right decision.

I'm not sure the vet had ever seen such high rates. He was obviously suffering. He was dying of hunger, of thirst, poisoned by his own blood.

The first shot let us time to say goodbye. Contrary to what the vet said, he didn't meow, he didn't fight. He was ready. Probably longer than we were.

Writing these lines are bringing me some peace of mind even if i'm in tears. Yeti, my little Mexican cat, born in the streets of Puerto Vallarta, and died in the French countryside. He might have lived a tad more things than your average cat. 

You're not suffering anymore. You will be resting in our garden, at the feet of a huge walnut tree you would have loved to climb. I miss you. I'll never forget you.

May you rest in peace my little Yeti. Thank you for all the memories by my side.

Insuffisance Rénale

Mon chat Yéti est malade. Et quand je dis malade, je devrais spécifier qu'il est gravement malade. A savoir qu'il a une insuffisance rénale. Enfin, ça, c'était le mois dernier. Pour être plus franc, ses reins ne fonctionnent plus. Ou du moins, très, très mal. 

Début décembre, on avait remarqué qu'il ne mangeait quasiment plus, qu'il buvait beaucoup et qu'il avait perdu beaucoup de poids (normal quand on ne mange pas). Et quand je parle de beaucoup de poids, il a perdu un peu plus d'1kg ce qui, sur un chat qui en faisait 4,6 à la base, ça fait beaucoup. Un peu comme si moi, je perdais 15kg. 

J'ai donc amené le loulou chez le vétérinaire. Prise de sang et 15 minutes plus tard, le verdict est tombé: il fait de l'insuffisance rénale. Avec des taux entre 4 et 5 fois supérieurs aux maximums, on a choisi de le faire hospitaliser, histoire d'essayer de faire baisser ces taux de créatinine et d'urée extrêmement élevés. Coup dur que de devoir le laisser mais on savait qu'il était entre de bonnes mains.

Sauf que 48h plus tard, la perfusion n'avait pas donné grand chose, les taux avaient certes baissé mais de manière dérisoire. Au bout du compte, il est resté hospitalisé une semaine mais quand je l'ai ramené à la maison, la vétérinaire n'était pas satisfaite des résultats et n'était pas très optimiste pour la suite. 

Chez les animaux, on ne fait pas de dialyse ni de greffe. C'est comme ça. Yéti aurait désormais un médicament à prendre à vie et de nouveau des croquettes spéciales pour problèmes rénaux.

Sauf que tout a recommencé en début de semaine. Il n'avait pas mangé du WE et avait reperdu du poids (il ne pèse plus que 3kg). Re-visite chez le véto, re-prise de sang. Et là, la véto n'y est pas pas allé par 4 chemins, elle m'a dit: les résultats sont mauvais. On est de nouveau sur des taux très élevés (presque autant qu'il y a un mois). On sait que le traitement sous perfusion n'est pas efficace comme il le devrait et elle m'a déconseillé de le re-faire hospitaliser ... ce serait de l'acharnement thérapeutique.  Ce qui est primordial à l'heure actuelle, c'est qu'il s'alimente. Avec des sachets fraîcheur qui coûtent une blinde. Mais peu importe. 

Bruno a fait des recherches sur Internet. Les dommages sur les reins sont irréversibles. Mais apparemment, les feuilles de pissenlit aident. Et surtout, éviter de donner des croquettes et de la nourriture sèche. 

Un chat sur 3 aujourd'hui, développe des problèmes rénaux. Et personne ne se pose la question de savoir pourquoi? Vous n'avez pas l'impression que c'est à cause des croquettes que le problème survient? Au Mexique, je donnais à mes chats (et mes chiens) uniquement de la viande crue. Ils suivaient tous un régime BARF (Bone And Raw Food) et n'ont jamais été malades. Ici, Yéti fait constamment des infections urinaires, des occlusions, des cystites et maintenant, ses reins sont nazes? 

Les croquettes "spécialisées" (contre les problèmes urinaires, pour les problèmes rénaux  etc.) coûtent 12€ le kilo. Un bras donc. Si j'achète du poulet en grande surface, j'en ai pour presque moitié moins cher. Le choix est vite fait. De plus, au Mexique, Yéti sortait et chassait beaucoup. Il mangeait donc souris, rats, mulots et tout un tas d'autres bestioles et se portait comme un charme. Il devient donc urgent qu'on finisse de retaper la maison du grand père qu'il puisse de nouveau vaquer à ses occupations de chats.

En attendant, non seulement on lui donne à manger des trucs plus naturels pour son régime alimentaire de carnivore mais en plus, Bruno lui fait du shiatsu spécial chat et du reiki. On a envie de croire aux miracles. Et peut-être que la prochaine fois qu'on ira chez le vétérinaire, elle n'en croira pas ses yeux!

Kidney failure

My cat, Yéti, is sick. And when i say sick, i should say that he's critically sick. He's suffering from kidney failure. Well, that was last month. More frankly, his kidneys don't work anymore. Or at least, extremely badly. 

In early December, we noticed that he wasn't eating much if at all. He was drinking more than usual and had lost a tremendous amount of weight. He had dropped a good kilo which, on a normally 4,6kg cat, is a LOT. A bit like if i'd lose 15kg. 

So i took him to the vet. Blood sampling done and 15 minutes later, words were put on his situation: kidney failure. With creatinine and urea levels through the roof (4-5 times over the higher limit!) we took the decision to have him hospitalized. Quite a hard blow to leave him there but we knew he was in good hands.

Except that 48hrs later, treatment hadn't done much. Levels had dropped but it was derisory. End of it all, he stayed there for an entire week. Even though his results after a week were not convincing, i brought him back home. The vet was not happy with the results and wasn't optimistic for his future.

You don't do dialysis or transplant on animals. That's the way it is. Yéti would now have to be medicated for the rest of his life and would have to eat specific kibbles.

Except that it started all over again this week. He had'nt eaten all WE and had lost weight yet again (he's only weighing 3kg now). Another trip to the vet, another blood sample. And the vet straightforwardly told me: his results are bad. We're at the same high levels we were a month ago. We know the medical treatment is not as effective as it should be and she went against having him hospitalized again. It would be harassment. What is essential now is that he feeds himself. With little fresh food sachets that cost a bomb but whatever.

Bruno investigated on the Internet. Kidney damages are irreversible. Apparently, dandelion leaves can help. And above all, no dry food!

One out of 3 cats develop kidney issues nowadays. And nobody wonders why? Don't you think that it's the kibbles that are the root of the problem? When i was in Mexico, i gave my cats (and my dogs) raw meat only. They were all eating BARF (Bone And Raw Food) and never got sick. Here in France, Yeti has been sick one too many times with urinary infections, obstruction, cystitis and now, his kidneys are out?

Specialized kibbles (for whatever problem your pet can have) cost 12€/kg. An arm and a leg. If i buy chicken meat at the supermarket, it costs me almost half this amount. Moreover, in Mexico, Yeti was constantly out hunting mices, rats and a whole bunch of other bugs and creatures he could find and his health was on top. It has now became urgent that we finish up refurbishing the grand father's house in order for him to be able to continue living his cat's life.

Meanwhile, not only are we back to an almost 100% BARF diet but Bruno also does shiatsu for cats on him as well as some reiki. We want to believe in miracles. And maybe next time we'll visit the vet, she won't believe her eyes...

Kunkush the Iraqi Cat

This morning, i read about the story of an Iraqi refugee family who took their beloved cat as they fled their home country. They had to cross several countries, take several boats and somewhere on the way, the cat got scared and they got separated. At that point of the story, my stomach constricted. I honestly only read the story because the title of the article was saying something like "happy ending for a refugee cat". I can't take violence, pain, suffering or heart-breaking stories when it comes to animals. 

I can't even begin to imagine how it must have felt for them. Well long story short, some vets/association in Greece actually found the cat and i don't know how, managed to find who its family was and tracked it down all the way up to Norway.

Poor cat was the center of attention obviously as all the medias were there to capture that moment, with flashes and mics and cameras and shit. He looked terrified but as soon as he got in the arms of his owner (who was in tears by the way, and at that point, so was I!), he seemed to relax and be at peace with the world. 

Happy ending.

Tears of joy.

Life is good.

This cat truly reminded me of my own cat Yeti. Not only because he's white also but because he's holding on to mommy dearest. It also reminded me how it felt when i dropped my 3 cats at the airport, worrying like crazy on how they'd do during that endless flight from Mexico to Paris. I also recalled the moment i stepped foot on French grounds only thinking about getting my cats back. I honestly couldn't have care less about my luggage at that point. I just wanted to see my cats. And we're talking hours. This family didn't know anything about their cats for MONTHS.

I was told I'd get them on the bulky luggage's carousel and i rushed there like a maniac. I heard them meowing from what seemed miles away but astonishingly, the second they saw me, they stopped. We were finally reunited, i hadn't abandoned them and it was good. Life was good.

After reading this story this morning, i looked at all my 3 stray Mexican cats and made the same pinky promise i did 3 years ago: i will never leave them behind. 

EVER.

Psycha

Yeti

Nina

My Cat Has Hepatitis

As you sure know by now, i have 3 cats and all 3 of them came back to France with me last year. Things have been going on pretty good with one little drawback: they can't really go outside. We don't have a garden and we live in a residence that has a major traffic road passing right in front of it. And so many stupid ass drivers who thing the parking lot is a race track. Anyways.

Needless to say that my cats have no idea or concept of what cold weather might be so they didn't build up that extra thick fur when the temperatures dropped at the beginning of the winter. Hence the salad they make to keep warm!

My oldest cat, Psycha, is a fat lady. She was weighing 6.5kg (about 14 lbs) when we got back from Mexico. 

before

At the end of November, we got this pretty cold weather, with temperatures in the negative (i'm talking Celsius here!!) and she started to get thinner. I thought that, well, she was digging into her fat to deal with the cold (even though they were inside at all time, you can still feel the outside coldness on the floor and at the window). I started worrying when she kept on dropping weight at an unusual pace. At one point, i could see pretty much every single of her back bones as well as her shoulder blade and hips. One night, i realized she wasn't eating anymore and i picked her up and that's when my heart broke into pieces. She was lighter than a feather and the second she was on my lap, she rolled herself up in a little static ball and cuddled up to me. It's heart-wrenching to realize that one of your pet is actually dying. At least that's the feeling i had. She was passed the stage where you actually fight for your life, she had given up.

after

When the vet saw her, his "oh yeah, she's not looking good" turned my blood to ice. Trying to keep my composure, i followed him for the weighting (she was a worrying 3.3kg), the ultrasound and the blood testing. And that's when the verdict fell: she has hepatitis. Behind the scary word lies something reassuring: the hepatitis is a disease of the liver and the liver is this amazing auto-regenerating organ. So with a couple of shots and some pills to stuff down her throat for a couple of weeks, she should be good to go pretty soon.

We went back after 2 weeks for check-up, a second shot and another round of pills and then again after 2 more weeks. On the scale, she was up to 4.3kg and the vet told me: she can go up to 4.5kg and she'll be great. 

Allow me a little laugh ... I weighed her 3 weeks after her last visit, so roughly 2 months after she got diagnosed with hepatitis, she's at 5.7kg and counting!

You go my little fatty. I'll love you no matter what!

That's her now ... does she look like she cares about how much she weights?? (wink wink)

There's A Monster In The House

My cats are scared of the vacuum  And when I say “scared”, I mean TERRIFIED. The second I pull it out of the storage closet, all 3 of them vanish in less time than I need to actually write it. It's like the vacuum was this gigantic 3 headed cat-eater monster spiting fire from every single one of its pore, with teeth the size of a samurai saber and blood-injected eyes.

The funny thing is that I don't even have to turn it on. So I think it's actually more the actual object than the noise it makes. Obviously, the noise does NOTHING to help them accept it any better. It's loud. It's high-pitched. It sucks stuff up it's trunk. And to top it all, it has wheels.

As I probably mentioned before, I live in a 20m2 flat so needless to say, vacuuming doesn't take a lot of time. But it seems to be way too long for them!

So today, as it was vacuum cleaning day, I (as expected) witnessed my three cats running into hiding (normally, all 3 of them under the couch) the nanosecond they saw me grab the evil-reincarnated object. Which, in a way, is cool. I don't have to push them or move them to vacuum under where they're sitting or laying. But what I always find hilarious, is when I'm done with the hoovering. They always wait a few minutes, just in case I turn it on again (you know we all do it, because you see a spiderweb on the ceiling, or the pair of shoes you dropped on the floor left a stain of dirt on the floor, or whatever crap you didn't see the first time and you see so much better now that you've almost put it all away!!). Once they realize that you're finally done with that thing from hell, it's like they have this silent cat reunion to decide which one of them is going to be sent as a scout to check if all danger is now gone. In our family, generally it's the oldest who gets stuck with it, the biggest, oldest, fattest cat of them 3: Psycha. And I must say, she's quite THE scout.

She pulls out of behind the couch, slowly, checking from afar and then very very slowly, starts to go around things and sniffs everything she normally hangs by, just like if she wanted to make sure the things she knows and the smells she's used to are still there, intact (probably not but hey, I do have to clean from time to time!). It's only when she's done patrolling that the other 2 dare to show the tip of their nose. And they do just like her: sniffing everything around, investigating like we've just made it to a new place.

Needless to say I can't wait for the day we'll have a garden and the day they'll see (and experience) snow the first time. I promise i'll videotape them!

The Epic Return Home

As most of you know already, I was returning back to my homeland of France after 11 years living in Mexico and a grand total of 13 years abroad. Quite a move! And to add a little bit of saucy extraordinaire, I was going to travel back with my 3 beloved cats. My mom jumped to the roof when I told her that. And I quietly explained her that it wasn't a question, it was a fact: I was taking my cats with me. I rescued these cats it's not to abandon them again. It's not like a pair of shoes you can leave behind.

Don't go believing that travelling from Mexico to France with 3 cats is an easy task. I'd be lying if I said it was complicated but let's settle it by saying it's tedious. Fortunately, I had the inmense fortune of having a friend who did just that a few years prior and his help had been priceless.

To sum it all up, there are more paperwork to be done than what I imagine you need when you want to transport a transplantable liver to the other end of the country.

So I did it all. I chipped my 3 cats, I had my vet issue a medical certificate for each one of them, had the zoosanitary services of the airport inspect them all to check their health, got a cage for each, bought special travel nappies and paid for their flight to Paris …

After thinking about it long and straight, I finally decided to have them sedated just before I went to the airport. My vet told me the sedative would last between 6 and 8 hours which meant that with my 7 hours waiting time in Mexico City, they'd be up, alive and kicking by the time they'd be boarding our plane to France. Well at least they'd have some drugged up time to kill some of the super long waiting time in D.F.

I couldn't believe how heart-breaking it was for me to see them stuck in their tiny cages knowing they'd be stuck in there for a good 28 hours. I was more worried for their well being then my own and I naturally cried my eyes out at the moment I gave them away at the checking counter. I was glad for my friend's support and thought that it would have been quite another story had I been alone at the airport on my last day in Mexico.

I had been informed that I had to go through the zoosanitary services in Mexico City as well since they were the ones who would deliver me the other St Graal I was needing: the “importation” papers for the French customs. My cats were registered, just like my lugages, all the way to Paris but I had to get them back to present them to the airport vet. And trust me, getting lugages back at your stopover when they're registered all the way to your final destination is quite something. I was actually glad for the 7 hours transit time I had between my 2 flights since it took me a good 2.5 hours to do it all.

And I had to check them in … AGAIN. The guy at the counter asked me if, considering the huge time left before my flight, I wanted to keep them with me for a few hours and I decided against. As I said earlier, seeing them in there was heartbreaking, and if they'd awaken while I had them it would have been worse to hear them cry. So I took them back as soon as the paperwork was done.

I don't know how I managed to sleep at all in the plane considering my latent anxiety about my cat's well-being and my neighbor snoring like you've never heard before but I did. CDG's airport is worse than I remembered, I arrived at terminal E, had to travel to terminal D than back to E to get my suitcases (don't ask, I still don't get it) and the only thing I was worried about was my cats. I didn't care if my suitcases hadn't make it but I wanted to see my cats so bad.

I heard them arriving on the bulky lugages delivery mat since they were all meowing on top of their lungs. They stopped the second they saw me. I couldn't do it the mexican way with 3 suitcases and 3 cages (meaning all piled up on top of one kart) so one of the airport's officials helped me out. Is there someone to help you? He asked. I said yes.

Nobody from Customs asked for my papers even though I passed right in front of 5 of them chitchatting. My friend was right … There was no need to worry.

All was good.

All is good.

Allow Me A Little Laugh

As you most likely know by now, i will soon be moving back to France. And even though some of you might find it crazy, i am very much planning on bringing my 3 cats with me. Yep, you read right, i'm taking my 3 Mexican stray cats back to France with me. No, we won't be living in Paaaariiiiiis like everybody is telling me here but yes, we'll land there so they will be able to actually "say" that they've been to Paris. LOL. What can i say, i have posh cats.

Things are getting sorted out and arranged and set up for me to go back at the end of this month but since i want to surprise my parents, i wont mention any date here. Only a handful of people actually know my departure date and i intent it to remains this way for as long as i can. 

Moving from Mexico to France with 3 cats obviously implies some paperwork to be done well in advance and thanks to a good friend of mine who moved from Mexico to Italy via Paris with his 4 cats, i believe i'm actually up to speed with all the administrative shit involved. The only thing that was left to be done was to actually purchase my plane ticket. Which i did. Today. YAY.

I did it online. And then i called the hotline cuz i was having issues with my payment (because it's a French credit card and we're in Mexico, i never understood but anyways, i'll figure it out someday). And once i had my confirmation code, i asked the lady i was talking to about my cats. And that's when she dropped a bomb: "you can only take 2 animals with you".

Say what?

Taking 2 of my 3 cats was not even an option. I mean you don't ask someone who travels if he's gonna take his left leg or his right leg to go on holiday, no, he's gonna take both. Well i'm gonna take'em all.

Long story short, the lady at the Aeromexico counter at the airport kept on bringing on the good news to me:

- yes you can take all 3 cats with you

- yes you can prepay for it now (and get a $20US discount on each)

- yes you can prepay your extra bag as well (and get another $20US discount)

- the maximum weight allowed for your suitcase is 32kg (and not 23 as i had read before - i'm repacking first thing tomorrow and i'm gonna STUFF another 8 kg in each of my suitcases!) and your second suitcase can also weight 32kg (rhaaa, i can carry up to 64kg with me)

- both your cats and your suitcases are set up all the way to Paris

- i'm changing you for a slightly later flight so you're now only flying with Aeromexico instead of having the second flight with Air France (hence i don't have to pay twice for the cats, twice for the excess luggage, and more important i don't have to collect my bags or cats in terminal 2 and then get my ass, my 64kg of crap and my 3 cats to terminal 1 and do another check in).

The only setback i'd say is that i have a 7 hours (or so) transit time in Mexico City and that my cats are going to be locked up in their traveling cages for 24 hours straight. 

They are going to HATE me for it. But hey, they're gonna live in France damn it. And i won`t take any of their ungrateful resentment.

I know this is going to be pretty epic. I know i'll feel so much better the second i'll let them out of their cage. But damn, i can't wait to write about it! 

Stay tuned!

Catherapy

I don't think the word exists but it doesn't really matter, i invented it and i think it fits. 

The other day, i was reading an article about cats and i was amazed to learn that of all mammals, cats heal 3 times faster than any other. Which means that if you take for example, a horse, a human being and a cat, all 3 of them with a broken leg, well the cat is gonna be up and running 3 times faster than the other 2. And why is that? Because cats PURR.

After digging it a little more, i found out that cats purring is on a frequency range that improve bone density and promote healing. So cats don't only purr when they're happy. They actually purr more when in a stressful environment, or when they're hurt. To heal themselves. Or soothe themselves.

In that same article was a mention of therapy cats and how some Asian folks have set some cat therapy clinics to help patients combat a variety of physical illnesses, as well as anxiety disorders, depression, loneliness and developmental disabilities.

A few days ago, i wasn't well at all. I was crying non-stop and had anxiety attacks. My shrink told me that it will happen from time to time and that it is part of the mourning process but that doesn't make it any less damaging. Especially when you're alone. 

But as i did with my insomnia problem, i refuse to let depression take over my life, i refuse to let  that loss rule my world and a friend of mine i had talked about that catherapy reminded me of it. He told me: you have 3 cats at your entire disposal, use them, cuddle them, lay down with them and let them help you mend the pieces of your broken heart and fill at least some of the void in your soul.

And i did.

And it worked.

Funnily enough, every time i have felt down, my 3 cats have been more cuddly and they all come on my bed at night (before that, it was only when it was cold, and most of the time, only in the morning, when the alarm had just rang to make me understand it was high time to feed them). It's amazing the wonders a purring cat can do. It's soothing to a point you don't want to cry anymore. It's comforting to a point you don't feel that pain piercing you anymore.

My cats are the best. And i'm sure they're not done helping me going through this all.

 Yeti is the best "healer"

Nina is the best "cuddler"

My other cat Psycha, doesnt care for healing or cuddling. She just want to be fed :P

My Cats Dont Care About Health

As some of you might remember, pretty much a year ago, ex-Dear Beloved and i switched the diet of all of our 5 pets (2 dogs and 3 cats) to the BARF diet. It was healthier and way more natural than kibbles and canned food and i'd say all our pets changed to that menu pretty easily.

It's been a year now and as you also know, i'm moving back to France next month and i know that for a while at least, my cats will be back to eat kibbles. I know, i know, shame on me. I'm not too happy about it either to be honest but you cant put fresh meat in their cage for the trip and i dont know if i'll have a fish shop close by or a butcher close by when i'm in France and even if i do, they wont taste the same. They're already gonna have to adapt to the new weather (which is going to be as drastic a change as it will be for me) i dont want them to have to adapt to new food as well. Not just yet anyway.

So earlier this week, i went to the supermarket, got them a bag of kibbles and damn them, you should have seen their reaction. The second i plunged a cup in the bag, all 3 of them came rushing from wherever they were and sat in front of their bowl.

I havent seen them eating that enthusiastically for quite a while to be honest. And the first thing i thought was, well, there you go for the healthy diet, they couldnt care less, they want kibbles. Screw fresh meat, screw everything bloody you put in our plate before, WE WANT KIBBLES.

Hopefully, Yeti will start putting on some weight. He's so skinny he's the one i worry about the most for the big trip to France.

But anyways, i'll keep you all posted about the trip back to France. I believe there are going to be countless of anectodes and crazy stuff happening in between now and then, both for my cats and for myself. It would be a shame not to share them all :)

PS: the picture is a couple of years old but from left to right: Psycha, Yeti and Nina (when we just got her)

BARF

BARF means Bones And Raw Food. It's the new diet my pets are on. All 5 of them.

We heard about BARF diet some time ago, investigated through and thought: why not?

BARF diet is about feeding your cats and dogs only raw food, including bones. It means feeding them raw chicken, raw beef, raw hearts and gizzards, raw fruits and vegs, raw eggs, raw fish and pretty much any raw meat you can come across. 

I know it might sound gross to some people but i mean, think about it for a minute. Your dog, before being a pet, before being a name, even before being a dog, is an ANIMAL. And a carnivorous one. What is natural for him/her to eat? Do you think if your dog was in the wild he'd eat cooked processed grinded canned food? Hell no he wouldnt. He would hunt some prey and eat it down the to the last bite.

Just like Lola did when one of the neighbor's chicken flew in my garden. Just like she did with a gigantic iguana, a crow and a rat. Just like my cats did with baby chickens, mice and even a pigeon. It's not gross, it's nature at work. 

Cats and dogs are MADE to eat smaller animals. They're predators. Their jaws can crush bones. Their body can process and digest them to. They're DESIGNED for it.

We've investigated quite a fair bit about it. When i ended up finding out what kibbles are made of, my stomach lurched. Sorry for the light hearted but if you have a pet, you might want to read the following. Factories that make pet food such as kibble, gather all the meat they can from anywhere they can. Which means it's the meat that is not suitable for men consumption, meat that has gone to waste, euthanized animals, sick animals and god only knows what else. In other words, your dog or cat eats dead or sick animals leftovers, along with all the lethal products that were used to kill them, along with the plastic bags they're dumped out with, the foam tray they come into and the collars or tags they wore when alive still. Then all that garbage is grinded, cooked to the point where the few nutrients left are gone and processed to become the dry disgusting food you feed your pet.

Would YOU eat this?

Damn right you wouldnt.

Then why would you make your pet eat that?

I now go to the butcher and to the fish merchant once a week. The food i'm feeding my pets costs me 3 times less than processed pet food. None of my 5 pets have had health issue over the transition to raw food. Even my cats are eating bones without any problem.

I'm not here to preach or try to convince you to change your ways. I'm just here to mention how much sense it makes to feed your beloved pets raw food if you think about it for 2 minutes. I'm also here to ask you one simple question:

What do you feed your pets with?

Shots ... Like In Injection ... With A Needle!

So yesterday, i went to the vet to take care of my two injured pets: Lola, my bullterrier with a cut from ear to ear and Nina, my youngest kitty cat who's almost got eaten alive by my dear dog mentioned above.

The good news are: 

* Nina is starting to use her back leg again to walk ... it's far from being fully recovered but she also started eating again so she should be back to her normal pain in the ass self anytime now.

* Lola's cut is slowly closing itself up but again, without stitches and with a cut that wide, it's gonna take some time.

If it wasnt for me, i dont think Lola would actually bother wandering around with her head open wide. But being the worried "mom" i am, well, you know!

So yesterday, the vet did give both of them a shot. And told me: come back tomorrow with both so they can get another shot.

Well today, my situation wasnt gonna be any different than it was yesterday: i dont have a car and i get back home at 6:30pm. Vet closes at 7pm. So there is no way i'm getting both Lola and Nina to the vet, separetly moreover!, in 30 minutes. Took me 1h30 yesterday.

When i told the vet he said: so, you'll do it then! Here's the needle and the potion.

JA

JA

JA

Whaaaaat? O_o

Me? Giving a shot to my pets? You're kidding right?

Well no he wasnt. 

For those of you who dont know, i'm terrified of needles, i cant watch a needle entering a vein, no matter if the vein belongs to my dog, my cat, my man, myself, if it's live or on TV, just the thought of it gives me goose bumps. 

So no, i'm not giving ANY shot to anybody.

Luckily for me, one of my ex colleague and friend, who's an animal passionate lives 6 houses down. I called him and he said, yeah sure, no problem, piece of cake.

He just left. 

Nina is now completely and happily stoned and sleeping.

Lola is killing her gigantic bone, looking at me in sheer adoration, like dogs do. 

Lemus, you're my hero today!

THANK YOU!

Woo freaking hoo!

Worse Birthday EVER

Well it started ok. It just ended dreadfully.

I was in Mexico City over the weekend and we let our neighbor take care of our dog and 3 cats. Lola was going to be in a gigantic enclosure with the neighbor's 6 dogs and the cats were  going to be at home like normal. The neighbor was just gonna come and feed them every day.

I managed to get a flight back home instead of the 12 hour bus ride i was initially gonna take. And i thought, well, that'd be good, i'll get some rest, in my own bed.

Well not so much. 

When i went back to get my dog, neighbor said he saw a nasty cut on her head in the morning. First thing i thought was, well if it's that nasty, why didnt you take her to the vet? So i asked: do you think she might need stiches? And he said yes maybe.

And i thought oh my fucking god if my dog needed stiches why the flying fuck didnt you take her to the vet? I mean dude, you said you'd take care of my dog, it's like taking care of a kid. If he/she breaks his leg or get a cut that needs stiches, you dont just wait for the parents to come back, you take that kid to the ER, get him/her fixed and then call the parents.

Well the cut was even worse than i actually anticipated. And trust me, when its about imagining nasty gory stuff, i'm top notch.

So i did my best to clean the wound but it's never easy with such an excited dog or with hands shaking like that, or even when it's pitch dark outside. I cleaned it and then put some antiseptic and then had the amazing idea to put a band over it so it wouldnt get infected with some dirt or god knows what else. And since i didnt have any bandage at hand, i used an old sheet to make one of my own. And i was sincerely pretty proud of the result:

No, i didnt get her ears under the bandage, she just put them back, like a good submissive dog!

What i wasnt expected was that while i was finally taking my well deserved shower, Lola would throw herself at Nina (my youngest cat) who had ran outside and couldnt get back in.

The scene i witnessed (after very nearly breaking a leg because i ran soaking wet through the tiles of my living room) was horror movie worthy. If i had seen it on TV i would have switched channel. It was Lola going for the kill and the prey, her prey, was my cat.

What do you do when one of your pet tries to kill another pet of yours? 

After what seemed centuries, I managed to stuff my fist inside Lola's mouth eventually and Nina dropped on the floor and was so shocked that she was standing there, not even blinking. She was covered in blood and so was Lola. 

It took my 60 kilos to keep her still and a good 20 minutes to calm her down, away from the scene. And it took one extra set of gutts and another liter of sweat to carry Lola inside the house to get her leash and go back out to tie her up while i was taking care of poor Nina.

Needless to say i didnt sleep. 

My dear friend Nahomi did me the favor to help me go back and forth to the vet this morning to check on both. 

Verdic: Lola needed stiches, at least 8, but part of the wound was getting dry and nothing more than a shot and some more antiseptic to clean the open wound could be done.

Nina doesnt seem to have any broken bones, the 2 bites are superficial but she's beaten up inside and has been administrated strong painkiller and antibiotics. She still doesnt use one of her back leg yet and hasnt eaten anything in 24 hours.

Vet said that both will be just fine. 

My pets are bad-ass.

But that was still the worse birthday presents ever. And 24 hours later, i still feel like a gigantic pile of poop.

Cat Bite

A good deed doesnt always pay off.

This morning, i saw one of my cats in the tree right outside the house. Since he was meowing like he truly needed my help, i called him down and decided to carry him back inside the house (so he wouldnt have to run for his life if ever my dog spotted him).


Well that was without counting on Lola (my dog) jumping that damn high. 


As soon as she spotted me with the cat in my arms, she threw herself at me and even my knee wasnt keeping her away. I was almost at the window where i first intented to throw the cat inside the house when she actually managed to jump high enough to bite the cat on the back leg.


My cat Yeti is not the kinda cat that takes that kinda crap without reacting so he obviously was more than eager to fight back. Problem is: he wasnt fighting back the dog but me. 


So i got scratched on my face (not fun) and got bitten on my hand.


I swear it hurt up to my soul. 


He left 3 bite marks: one for his lower teeth and 2 with his upper fangs.


And as i said, it hurt like mother fucking HELL.


Wounds were so deep they actually bled for a couple of hours. It amazed me how such incredibly small wounds can hurt that much. I mean seriously.


But what worried me more was the following morning when my hand had turn a nice shade of red and was twice its normal size. I had no idea cats were venomous.


Since that swell got me seriously worried, i went to the doctor to check it up. When i told him my cat had bitten me, he smiled and told me: people always come for cat bites, almost never for dog bites.
And why is that? Simply because a dog bite stays open so it's easier to clean and it dries quicker. Whereas a cat bite goes deeper (thanks to needle sharp teeth) and closes almost instantly, keeping all the venom bacterias inside with no way out.


As the doctor said, back in the days, we would have needed to cut open to clean the wound but thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, we can now use drugs to sort it all out. Drugs such as penicilin which has been used in the treatment of bacterial infections caused by organisms. 
Which is perfect to fight cat's venom.


Bottom line, if i'm ever stupid enough to try to "save" my cat from my dog, it's better to get bitten by the dog  than by the cat. And as my doctor nicely put it: your cat is more than capable of handling that kind of situation with the dog, he also runs faster than the dog and will most likely NOT get hurt if you dont get involved.


Well, screw the cat ... he's on his own from now on!

That is SOOO not my cat and dog. But if only ....

Yep, this is more like this ... Except that both mine are white ...