How-I-Fed-My-Cats-Raw

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dant organic food and a more health-minded social atmosphere,and I found just that in the East Bay Area.The last time I saw Whisky before I left, she was sad and had lostmuch of her vitality. I knew she missed me, my sister and brother,and she was run down on her toxic diet. <strong>My</strong> heart sank.A year or so later my dad informed me that Whisky had cancer inher mouth, it was inoperable, and she was wasting away. She diedat home. I felt helplessly sad. She deserved better—far better.Whisky’s spirit really touched me, and she taught me a lot—more than most people I’d ever known. Looking forward, it wasclear that I’d never feed a pet cooked food again. I am thankful for the gifts Whisky gave, and have followed through on doingbetter with my future kitty companions.ccccccIn 1991 I took a new engineering job in Santa Rosa, California and renteda cozy little redwood house in Sebastopol, which is an hour and ahalf north of San Francisco. On Christmas day I decided to go to an animalshelter and give a kitty a new life.There I saw and heard a scruffy and young, scrawny, rambunctious graytabby boy who wanted out of his cage. “Rowrrr! Rowrrrr!! Rowrrrr!!!” he exclaimedwith his eyes fixed on mine and a paw reaching out for salvation.“Do you want to come home with me ?” I dumbly asked. “ROWRRRRR!!!” hereplied. The decision had been made.GreystokeThe animal shelter clerk sent us home with a free bag of kitty kibble and couponsfor more. I tossed them in the garbage and welcomed my new buddyto our home. “Greystoke” was his new name, and fun hijinks was his game.Greystoke was three months old, very skinny and stinky. His eyes were muddybrown and not at all clear. He slept a lot and loved his new home.His introduction to raw ground turkey, chopped fish and veggies and avocado was successful from the get go—no transitionnecessary! He was a rawfood chow cat to the core, starving for real, good food.Over the next three months, Greystoke filled out, his muddy eyes becameluminous green, his scent became sweet, and he became the livest wire inthe neighborhood. He loved me as his “daddy” and spent much of his dayshunting gophers in the loamy backyard.Life was good for Greystoke, and he became a strong and a most handsomecat before long. I’d never seen a cat who was awake so much; most catssleep 14 to 20 hours a day because their cooked diets are so toxic and devitalized.But not Greystoke—he was supercharged with raw energy most4
of the day.A most memorable health issue occurred when hewas around one year old. A large abscess bubbleformed on one of his hind thighs. After about threedays of resting inside the house and enduring somepain, it was ripe and burst. He licked it clean and wasfine. The large patch of raw, pink flesh completelyhealed in four short weeks. No oozing pus, no blackcrusty scab—just clean regeneration of skin and fur.Greystoke certainly was a self-healing powerhouse!I fed him three meals a day consisting of raw groundor sliced chicken, turkey, chopped clams, smelt,salmon and avocado, often with finely-chopped greens mixed in. Occasionally, I fed him raw egg, beaten up in a bowl. Onetime I gave him a dollop of raw almond butter. After he struggled to remove the sticky stuff from the roof of his mouth forfive minutes, I didn’t try that again. Instead, I occasionally fed him ground nuts and seeds. Once he was very eager to try thehoneydew melon I was enjoying. To my amazement, he chowed down on a good portion of it. To my dismay, I found a pile ofgreen melon vomit on the carpet the next morning. I might have offered him some banana later on, but he rejected it andnever went for sweet fruit again.He did get his fill of gophers, voles and mice fresh from the backyard. All-in-all, at age one-and-one-half, he was one healthy,vivacious and handsome dude. We had tons of fun playing. Since he had been neutered, his sex drive was halted, but his rambunctiousnesswas high—sometimes too high.A neighbor got a new cat, a male bronze-tinted tabby, who became a regularvisitor. Greystoke and he were about the same size, age and disposition, and theybecame pals. The friendship soon turned from peaceful to an irritable wrestlingrivalry. Sparks occasionally flew, with some biting. It seemed harmless, as I neversaw any flesh wounds, but, nonetheless, I didn’t like it and I broke up every wrestlingmatch I saw.He was about 20 months old when I noticed a one-inch bump protruding fromthe side of his left ribcage. It bothered him a little when I touched it. It grew toabout two inches in length over the next two days. I surmised that it was probablyanother abscess, and my self-healing boy wonder would be fine.The next day the bump was suddenly completely gone. I was mystified and assumedthat was the end of that oddity. But it didn’t make sense and it hauntedme.The next day was a Saturday, and I was off to attend the annual Harmony Festival in Santa Rosa. I fed Greystoke in the morningand again when I returned around dinnertime. He seemed tired but nothing seemed too unusual. The next morning I fed himand again and things seemed fine with Greystoke, or so I thought. I headed off to the festival again.5
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