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How I
fed
m y C a t s
r A W
Article
&
photos by
David
Klein.
Ph.D.
Ta l e s
o4 K i t t
ie
s
f
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I love cats. They light me up with joy, teach me plenty about sensory awareness
and grace, and make me wonder about a lot of things. Their emotional similarities to us humans are
fascinating. Playful little harlequins in fuzzy pajamas seeking exchanges of pure love, they add spirit
to one’s life. Few things are more special than a warm purring kitty at my hands.
I have been a raw vegan fruitarian for 30 years and running. Yes—I’m horrified by killing and
repulsed by meat eating (my former meat-based diet almost destroyed me). But I have recognized
that planet Earth is not a vegans-only paradise, and that life here, including fertile soil, depends
upon life forms killing and consuming others. That’s just the way Nature is, and I’ve chosen to ac-
cept that, and to feed my feline pets raw, wholesome, meat-based diets since they are constitution-
ally carnivores. They deserve to eat their natural biological diet. I have no delusions of messing with
their genetic disposition.
No creature on planet Earth was designed to eat cooked food. Only humans and our pets eat cooked
food and suffer throughout our lifespans from autointoxication and the degenerative diseases and
destructive behavior that go along with that. Read Pottenger’s Cats by Francis M. Pottenger Jr. and
you’ll learn about the genetic degradation and physical degeneration caused by cooked food diets
over just three generations.
The fat, lazy, feeble and miserable cats and dogs you’ve seen have one major thing in common: they
are toxic as a result of eating heat-processed and chemically-adulturated “pet foods.” These pack-
aged concoctions which are a far cry from the foods they would naturally eat as hunter-foragers in
nature, the foods which would enable pristine health and high vitality, and render physical degen-
eration an impossibility, except in cases of droughts and other natural disasters.
The differences between cooked-fed and raw-fed cats (and dogs) are enormous.
• Cooked-fed traits: The animals are smelly, moody, need lots of sleep, lazy or hyper, dull fur coat, cloudy eyes, dry and scaly skin, constipated, fat, finicky,
scatter-brained, often unhappy, often diseased, often infested with bugs and other parasites and short-lived.
• Raw-fed traits: The animals are clean, energetic, slender, poised, alert, mostly cheerful, healthy and long-lived.
I have witnessed these differences in many cases and gained great insight from my pet cats whom I’ve fed raw diets.
This article will recount the experiences I have had with the four cats I’ve cared for, focusing on how I’ve fed them. However, I’m sure you know that food is
not the only essential we need to “feed” our pets. Other necessities must include plenty of loving affection (chatting, resonant vocalizing, stroking, scratching,
playing, grooming, hugging), poise and peace in the house, dependability, a safe and secure territory and respect.
I aim to treat my cat with all of the respect and care that I would give myself and my beloveds. When the needs of pets are not being met, if you pay close
attention, you will notice that they are sad and unhappy. Their feelings can manifest in many undesirable behaviors, including despondency, anxiety, overeat-
ing, roaming, anger, violence and worst of all, cancer.
Shower your pets with love—not just good food—and provide a wholesome life for them. Develop your intuitive skills for caring for them optimally. If you are
wondering how to become more intuitive, tune in to your pets—they are the best teachers! Observe how aware they are of everything, especially your man-
nerisms and emotional states around them, how they are guided by their senses and instincts, how they really want to be loved, and emulate their best traits.
Open up and be sensitive to your feelings which inform you about what is good and promotes harmony, peace and health with your four-legged housemates.
One more point before I get on with my four kitty tales: cats make great companions for elderly single people. There are many orphaned kitties in local animal
shelters awaiting a loving home, so please consider such a gift if the situation is right.
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From Vibrance Magazine Issue No. 10
by David Klein, Ph.D. • www.vibrancemagazine.com
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When I was about 14 years of age, on a nice summer day
a very young kitty wandered into the backyard of our
suburban northern New Jersey home. She was a cute, spunky tortie
who was obviously lost and searching for food and shelter. I hadn’t
touched a cat in many years, following a horrific allergy response to
a friend’s cat I had pet when I was a kid. I had rubbed my eyes after
petting that cat and they swelled up and closed. My mother gave
me antihistamines, which sent me into the deepest sleep for several
hours. When I awoke, the swelling was gone and my fear of ever
touching a cat again was set.
So, then along came the tortie. My neighborhood friends, sister, brother and I played with her. I was especially smitten. Dad
had forbidden pets (or so I thought), and I felt it was risky to even mention the kitty to him. As dusk descended, the kitty wan-
dered into the woods and would likely have been gone forever. “Can’t let that happen!,” I thought. So, I asked my friend to pick
her up and bring her into our garage. I got her a bowl of milk (I did not know any better), laid down some old bed sheets in a
corner and showed Dad the scene. He liked her and had no problem with keeping her overnight. That was the beginning of a
16-year family affair.
The cat was really something special. We named her “Whisky,” a combination of “Whiskers” and “Frisky,” both of which
described her well. To this day, I still have never seen a more beautiful animal. She was shy, often aloof, yet extremely sensitive
and full of regal grace and tender sweetness. Words cannot really describe how magical her air was.
Whisky was a wonderful companion and playmate. During my eight-year colitis illness, my
sadness, angst and turmoil were relieved by her presence and devoted friendship. She loved
to nap on my bed and follow my buddies and me on long walks through the neighborhood
woods and around the adjacent school grounds. When we slept in a tree fort we had built in
the woods, she slept on its roof.
Her vitality was high over her first few years, but then she began to gain some excess weight
and become lethargic and moody at times. Why?
We fed her cooked, commercial cat food. Canned meats, boxed kibble, moist, packaged meat
niblets with preservatives, water and nothing more. Mice, birds and other prey were not part of her diet—there was not an
abundance of them where we lived.
I did not find out about Natural Hygiene and rawfood commonsense until Whisky was about 14 years of age. She was in fair
shape at that point, and I knew she would do better on a raw diet, as I was (I rapidly healed up from eight debilitating years of
ulcerative colitis). However, changing Whisky’s diet seemed untenable at my parents’ home. I at least succeeded in getting my
family to cut the worst packaged cat food from her diet.
After I rejuvenated, I moved out of my family’s home to upper New York state to take a new engineering job. I thought hard
about taking Whisky with me, but recognized that she belonged at her longtime home, and, sadly, I had to settle for seeing her
only a few times a year thereafter.
A year later, as my health was blooming, I took off to start a new chapter in my life in California. I needed warmer climes, abun-
Wisky
4
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 lost
much of her vitality. I knew she missed me, my sister and brother,
and she was run down on her toxic diet. My heart sank.
A year or so later my dad informed me that Whisky had cancer in
her mouth, it was inoperable, and she was wasting away. She died
at 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 was
clear that I’d never feed a pet cooked food again. I am thankful for the gifts Whisky gave, and have followed through on doing
better with my future kitty companions.
In 1991 I took a new engineering job in Santa Rosa, California and rent-
ed a cozy little redwood house in Sebastopol, which is an hour and a
half north of San Francisco. On Christmas day I decided to go to an animal
shelter and give a kitty a new life.
There I saw and heard a scruffy and young, scrawny, rambunctious gray
tabby boy who wanted out of his cage. “Rowrrr! Rowrrrr!! Rowrrrr!!!” he ex-
claimed with his eyes fixed on mine and a paw reaching out for salvation.
“Do you want to come home with me ?” I dumbly asked. “ROWRRRRR!!!” he
replied. The decision had been made.
The animal shelter clerk sent us home with a free bag of kitty kibble and cou-
pons for more. I tossed them in the garbage and welcomed my new buddy
to 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 mud-
dy brown 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 transition
necessary! 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 became
luminous green, his scent became sweet, and he became the livest wire in
the neighborhood. He loved me as his “daddy” and spent much of his days
hunting gophers in the loamy backyard.
Life was good for Greystoke, and he became a strong and a most handsome
cat before long. I’d never seen a cat who was awake so much; most cats
sleep 14 to 20 hours a day because their cooked diets are so toxic and de-
vitalized. But not Greystoke—he was supercharged with raw energy most
Greystoke
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of the day.
A most memorable health issue occurred when he
was around one year old. A large abscess bubble
formed on one of his hind thighs. After about three
days of resting inside the house and enduring some
pain, it was ripe and burst. He licked it clean and was
fine. The large patch of raw, pink flesh completely
healed in four short weeks. No oozing pus, no black
crusty 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 ground
or 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. One
time I gave him a dollop of raw almond butter. After he struggled to remove the sticky stuff from the roof of his mouth for
five minutes, I didn’t try that again. Instead, I occasionally fed him ground nuts and seeds. Once he was very eager to try the
honeydew melon I was enjoying. To my amazement, he chowed down on a good portion of it. To my dismay, I found a pile of
green melon vomit on the carpet the next morning. I might have offered him some banana later on, but he rejected it and
never 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 ram-
bunctiousness was high—sometimes too high.
A neighbor got a new cat, a male bronze-tinted tabby, who became a regular
visitor. Greystoke and he were about the same size, age and disposition, and they
became pals. The friendship soon turned from peaceful to an irritable wrestling
rivalry. Sparks occasionally flew, with some biting. It seemed harmless, as I never
saw any flesh wounds, but, nonetheless, I didn’t like it and I broke up every wres-
tling match I saw.
He was about 20 months old when I noticed a one-inch bump protruding from
the side of his left ribcage. It bothered him a little when I touched it. It grew to
about two inches in length over the next two days. I surmised that it was probably
another abscess, and my self-healing boy wonder would be fine.
The next day the bump was suddenly completely gone. I was mystified and as-
sumed that was the end of that oddity. But it didn’t make sense and it haunted
me.
The next day was a Saturday, and I was off to attend the annual Harmony Festival in Santa Rosa. I fed Greystoke in the morning
and again when I returned around dinnertime. He seemed tired but nothing seemed too unusual. The next morning I fed him
and again and things seemed fine with Greystoke, or so I thought. I headed off to the festival again.
6
When I returned late in the afternoon, he was not there to greet me
as usual. I searched high and low and finally found him in a shallow
depression under the deck. He was almost motionless. I pulled him
out and was horrified—there was not much life in him.
My heart pounded as I took him inside and set him on a blanket. He
didn’t go for water or food. I called the emergency veterinary hospital
and they said bring him in.
The veterinarian examined him, said he had a fever and was severely
dehydrated and about a day away from death if he did not get fluids.
Now I was devastated!
Intravenous fluids were given and I agreed to x-rays and an overnight
stay for Greystoke. Soon after returning home, the vet called saying
that Greystoke’s chest cavity was filled with pus. I told the vet about
the bump on his ribcage and he said that it was an abscess which
had burst internally, filling Greystoke’s thoracic cavity with the pus.
The next step would be to remove the pus with a hypodermic needle.
The cost for that and everything else so far would be around $800. I
consented and the procedure was done.
I visited Greystock the next morning. The vet allowed me to feed him some raw meat. He ate and began to regain a little
strength. I took him home and he quietly rested, and day by day became more animated.
Over the next two weeks, Greystoke almost became his old energetic self. He seemed more peaceful. His wrestling buddy was
peaceful, and all seemed well.
Then I noticed his vitality dipping bit by bit. He became more and more lethargic and it was sad to see. Then one afternoon I
found him resting underneath a fir tree in the backyard, seemingly too enervated to frolic around like his old self. I knew the
score. The internal toxicosis was gaining ground again.
I took him back to the vet, he was examined and I was told that the pus and fever had returned. My heart sank further. The vet
explained that his best efforts were unable to detect a toxic foreign object in his body, such as a broken tooth from a fight,
which might be causing the “infection.” He explained that he could attempt exploratory surgery to look for a foreign intruder,
but that would mean even more suffering for Greystoke. He said that most people would opt for euthanasia instead of that
torture.
I am not sure how I made this decision, but euthanizing my best friend was the most painful one in my life. I said good-bye
and cried buckets all the way home, and wept the next three days.
The obvious biggest lesson there was no matter how well one feeds one’s pet and how healthy and vivacious he or she is, lon-
gevity is not a sure thing—life is fragile and every moment is precious. To honor the joy that Greystoke’s life gave me, I vowed
to do much more to keep my future pets out of harm’s way. Fighting with other pets wouldn’t be tolerated any more. I still
miss that boy and am saddened by his early departure.
7
I f you visited the home I lived in, dubbed “the
red barn,” in Sebastopol, California in the
early 2000s, you surely met my roommate Earl. His
official name was Earl Grey—he was a gray tabby. I
didn’t like the name, but I loved Earl.
Here’s how our connection began. The red barn
sat on a nice rural property which had a wonderful
apple orchard on one half, and three residences on
the other half. Situated next to the red barn was a
trailer, and at the front end of the property was the
landlord’s home. It was a lively little commune of
sorts.
The fellow who lived in the trailer with his girlfriend
also had a dog and two cats, one being Earl. Earl was neglected and somewhat abused. That resulted in obesity and despon-
dency. He was around ten years of age and weighed about 22 pounds.
When I first met him, Earl was a grey, yeasty-smelling blob of misery with an unkempt matted coat of loose fur. He sat on a
woodshed on the side of the barn and brooded all day. When his keeper came home and fed his pets, Earl ate kibble that he
had to compete for. I had no idea that this big fellow was interested in any human contact. For the first few weeks, I pretty
much ignored him, assuming he was disinterested in human contact.
One day I tried to warm him up with some stroking, but he seemed pained by my effort. This could not go on any longer, I
thought, so I asked his keeper if I could feed him some raw meat. He said, “Yes—that’s what I used to feed him. In fact, you can
have Earl.” What?! I told him that I could never take someone else’s pet, to which he replied, “It’s OK—he’s not my favorite pet,
and he’s yours if you’d like to take him in.” I ruminated for a few moments then said, “OK, I’ll take care of him and feed him well.”
I immediately fed Earl some raw meat on the barn’s deck, led him inside, and knowing he had a new home, Early never turned
back.
Earl loved the caressing, brushing, combing, raw food and all of the tons of affection
he got. His new lease on life revealed him to be a smart, sweet, loyal, proud and loving
little boy...er, feline.
The roly-poly “Earl of the Red Barn” was a rejuvenating wonder. His coat became lus-
trous, his scent sweet, his eyes keen, and very slowly over the first few months on his
100% raw diet, the excess pounds came off. Around six months after his adoption, he
suddenly lost all the remaining excess fat and became a fit and svelte 14-pound, hand-
some dude. Jumping onto four-foot high tables and grappling up onto tall fence tops
and climbing trees was no problem for Earl. We had oodles of fun. One day he joined me
in the mayhem of a rowdy backyard stickball game with the landlord’s kids and brought
on huge smiles all around! It was wonderful to see how he enjoyed the company of the
many visitors and co-workers who were in our lives over the next five years.
Simba, A.K.A. “Earl”
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When Dr. Tim Trader and Dr. Douglas Graham gave
a talk to an audience of 30 or so people in the
barn’s living room, Earl arrived last and peacefully
took a snooze on the futon. When my assistants
for my Living Nutrition business were working
away in the barn’s office, Earl often hung out and
napped on the office desk, keeping us calm and
amused by his gregariousness and repose. When
the Rawstock crew who had camped out in the
living room awoke at 6:00 a.m. to head out to the
festival at Bill Macdonald’s apple farm, Earl would
shout “ROWWW...ROWWW...ROWWW,” demanding
to be fed by whoever was within earshot. One day
that command landed on Laurie Masters, who was
laughing her head off as she echoed Earl’s pleas. Earl demanded raw food when he was hungry and respect at all times. His
wishes were granted and he was a fully vested family member and office co-manager.
Earl was so healthy and beautiful over the first five years of our partnership that I thought he’d live way beyond the age of 20.
I did get one sign, however, that his previous diet and age were catching up with him.
I was feeding Earl a varied raw diet of avocado, chopped veggies
and chicken parts, ground turkey, fish and egg. Since he was not
much of a hunter, and thinking he needed some bone as cats would
obtain in nature, I occasionally added some chopped chicken leg
bones and backs to his diet. A local grocery store sold those parts.
Using a hatchet, I chopped up the bones, blood marrow and all, on
a wooden plank, and Earl munched on the pieces. I wondered if his
intestines would be OK with that, but he seemed to have no prob-
lems. Cats, I had learned, have acidic gastric secretions which are far
stronger than those of humans, and dissolving bone is something
a cat can normally easily do. However, knowing that sharp pieces
must be avoided, I chopped and mashed the bone to small chunks
with no pointy shards. I assumed that Earl would have no problem
crunching on those chunks. But, I later learned a painful lesson.
One day, Earl sustained an odd injury. The first or second vertebra somehow became displaced, resulting on his tail taking a
45-degree turn there. Perhaps he got his tail caught in a fence when jumping down, or he had fallen off a tree limb onto his
rump. I took him to the vet and was told it was not painful and was best left alone—manipulation to straighten it would only
damage the ligaments. So, this crooked tail remained.
The vet had given Earl a brief examination and reported to me that virtually all of Earl’s teeth were missing. I was shocked and
saddened, feeling responsible for causing that condition with the thick chicken back feedings. So I fed no more bone to Earl.
Earl managed just fine thereafter on his raw diet of finely ground, sliced and mashed foods.
9
A year after the third and final Rawstock Festival I host-
ed in Sebastopol (2005), circumstances in my life took
a turn and I moved to a smaller home across town. The
new home was a temporary stepping stone to a much
better situation. It was a cottage surrounded by a vine-
yard and it was not very much fun or stimulating for
Earl; there were no children and he had less freedom
because of the landlord’s dogs and feisty cat.
At age 16, Earl was vivacious and beautiful—clean and
clear-eyed with the softest coat of fur. I tired of the
name “Earl” and thought he needed a more dignified
one. If you ever Googled “Earl Grey” and laid your eyes
upon a picture of his namesake as I did, you might un-
derstand why I wanted to disassociate my buddy from the man known for the tea. I renamed him Simba.
In the second autumn of our stay at the vineyard cottage, Simba slowed down. I could see how bored he was and that we
needed to find better terrain. In early December, his appetite waned. By the end of the month, he was eating about one-half
of his usual daily quantities of food, and he had lost a few pounds. Then his appetite became very weak and he became slug-
gish. One morning in early January, he was crying with pain and fear—his legs were not working. Scared, he managed to drag
himself under my bed to hide. I pulled him out and had friend Dr. Johanna Zee examine him. Johanna had run a veterinary
clinic in Vieques, Puerto Rico and had a lot of experience with cats. She surmised that he had blood clots in his legs.
Simba spent most of the next two days in a papasan chair in the living room and ate and drank very little. He gazed at me with
no emotion, but he was clearly hurting over the loss of his vitality and physical faculties.
On the second day, a Sunday, Johanna, her son and I went to San Francisco to see Cirque du Soleil. When I returned, Simba
was right where he was in the morning, on the papasan. He did not
try to move. He refused to drink water, and Johanna advised me that
he didn’t have much time left. His organs were simply giving out. My
mind reeled.
A few hours later, seizures, blindness and mild delirium began. His
body was there but Simba’s spirit was gone. I awoke almost every
hour that night to watch him. He managed to crawl onto the carpet,
but he was almost lifeless in his wasted body. At 7:00 a.m. his heart
seized up and his body expired. He was very thin, but as beautiful
as ever. It was all very mystifying and disheartening to me. I buried
him in Johanna’s backyard and carved a redwood headstone. I knew
he didn’t want to leave us. His spirit never has. What a sweet boy.
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I moved to a nicer home in Sebastopol that summer with plenty
of privacy and woods for exploring. After six months of grieving
I felt ready to adopt again.
I went to the Sonoma County Humane Society’s well-endowed animal
shelter in Santa Rosa one day and checked out the dozen glass-walled
rooms filled with cats of all ages, sizes and breeds. None seemed inter-
ested in me and I felt no resonance with any of them. Almost ready to
give up, I tried looking in the last room one more time. One little critter
caught my eye.
I had spotted a cute tortie nestled behind some other cats. Was she the
genetic heir of Whisky? As I closed in on her, she sensed my attention
and began purring. Her motor became more vibrant as I stroked and
held her. That little bundle of love was coming home with me.
The three-month old tortie with caramel-colored eyes had been given
the name “Lisa.” I preferred another name, so I signed the adoption pa-
pers, renaming her “Carmella.” While she resembles Whisky from afar,
her markings and personality are quite different.
Carmella was a baby. She loved her new home, the rawfood offerings,
cuddles and lots of head scratches. She went from cooked to raw with
no reservations. She grew quickly, and her eyes became hazel. She de-
lighted in chasing the squirrels who occupied the huge white pine tree
in the backyard, and in hunting and eating some of the gophers, pygmy mice and wood rats she caught. Since the house had
a pet door, she brought some of her live catches into the bathtub at all hours of the night. I’ll skip the details of that!
Carmella was always happy and playful. She stayed out of trouble, keeping a distance from the coyote and raccoon interlopers
who came for midnight raids on her food bowl which was set on the deck.
Tiring of the long, cold, rainy winter seasons in northern
California, in early 2010 I decided to fulfill my fruitarian dream
of living in a tropical land and set my sights on Maui. My only
reservation about my plan was that the rabies shot, flight and
quarantine might kill Carmella, but I could not leave her behind.
I was torn over my decision to get her a shot three months be-
fore our departure, but, happily, there were no apparent effects.
I lined up a home to rent in Haiku, Maui, beginning in October,
booked a flight and obtained a roomy pet carrier with a wa-
ter feed bottle. Carmella was to be placed in the special cargo
hold for animals. I was assured that is was a safe, temperature-
Carmella
11
controlled space. I was nervous, however, having
heard horror stories about some animals dying in
plane cargo holds.
As our departure date drew nearer, Carmella was
tested for rabies antibodies. She passed, meaning
she needed neither further inoculations nor quar-
antining. I was greatly relieved. One more hurdle
to go.
We left Sebastopol and set out for San Francisco
International Airport with very different perspec-
tives. I was excited about the new chapter in para-
dise that was about to unfold, yet edgy about how
Carmella would fare in the pet carrier and cargo
hold. Carmella was just plain excited. Surprise!
Carmella was enthralled with the airport scenery she viewed through the carrier
cage door and did not utter a sound or show any apprehension when the porter
took her away to the pet hold. She clearly loved the adventure! Amazing, con-
sidering that most cats can become so freaked out by changes and traveling to
unfamiliar noisy places with lots of people milling about. Solitary confinement
in a cage in the bowels of a roaring jet for five hours? No problemo por Senorita
Carmella!
Carmella probably enjoyed a good nap. When I picked her up at the animal quar-
antine station at the airport in Honolulu on Oahu, she was fine and dandy—the
adventure was still cool with her. I presented her papers to the animal control
officer and she was released. She had not relieved herself in the pet carrier and
seemed very comfortable. I offered some dried salmon treats and she ate sparingly. We had a two-hour layover and Carmella
was calm and cool in the carrier while we hung out on a grassy lawn.
We boarded our connecting flight to Maui, landed, rented a car and headed to our
new home. It was a tropical foliage heaven for Carmella. What a gift! There were plen-
ty of new critters to chase—geckos, chameleons, rats and mongoose—and trees to
climb.
Life on Maui has been great for Carmella, and she keeps rolling with the changes very
well. Annette moved in and we got married, we moved twice, and Carmella adapted
perfectly to the new living situations. She will turn five years of age next month and
is healthy and fit at nine pounds.
There has been very little drama; she is too fast for dogs and usually too savvy to get
into trouble, it seems. Two incidents are worth retelling, however.
12
First incident: Soon after we moved
to Maui, I learned that there was a
neighborhood bully. A neighbor said
that a disturbed cat had killed his
two newly-adopted kittens a couple
of months earlier. Two or three times
when Carmella was out at night I
heard screaming skirmishes. I never
saw the instigator, but guessed it
was that stealthy Maui Mangler cat.
Early one evening, I heard some
screaming and then Carmella sud-
denly bolted into the living room
through the pet door. Shaken, blood
pooled on the floor from her bleed-
ing neck. She was apparently bitten
by the Maui Mangler.
The blood flow stopped quickly and naturally. Carmella got a big dose of consolation from me, then she walked upstairs. I fol-
lowed her a while later, and after a search, found her inside the bathroom cabinet, behind the closed door under the vanity
sink. She remained there, fasting and healing for over 24 hours. Then she came downstairs, ate a breakfast, and all was normal
again.
Curiously, after that conflict, there were no further signs of the bad cat again.
Second incident: I like to vary my pets’ diets, to avoid the ruts of routines. I noticed bags of frozen pork chunks in a grocery
store freezer case and bought one, figuring that Carmella would enjoy the flavor. She did, and I fed her that occasionally over
the next few months. Then I noticed a change in her physical appearance: her coat, especially her belly and rump, had become
a bit mangy with sparse fur, and she had lost about two pounds.
Concerned, I realized that raw pork is notorious for parasites, so
I stopped feeding her that for good. Still, the mange persisted. I
Googled information about natural pet remedies for parasites.
Ground raw pumpkin seeds was a popular remedy that several
people endorsed, so I tried that. After adding some to her food
several times, her coat became healthy again and she regained the
lost weight. I have continued to add some pumpkin seed meal to
her meals once in a while. She also occasionally likes to munch on
whole pumpkin seeds.
Today, as usual, Carmella is thriving.
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I ’ve learned a lot from being the care giver of my four
kitty companions, and I am still learning with Carmella
and wondering about her diet as it relates to her health and
longevity. Does her diet contain too much fat, too much fish,
is the food pure enough, are there too few organs, too little
or too much of some particular nutrients? I’ll keep learning,
with observation and intuition as my guides.
May your love affair with kitty be long and extra special, and
may he or she live the best of all nine lives! If you have any
insights and stories to share, your correspondence would be
purrfectly welcomed! I’d like to write more on this subject in
future issues.
Now here are the basics of “Raw Kitty Care 101.”
DDietary Transition
I don’t have any experience with dietary transition. The three
cats I’ve adopted took to a 100% raw food diet right away.
I have heard from other cat guardians who have said that
their cats would not eat any raw food in lieu of their cooked
foods. I suggested blending in some raw ground meat, avo-
cado and veggie pulp with their meals, and keeping bowls
of plain raw egg and avocado near their regular food dishes,
but I haven’t yet received any positive feedback on that. I
also recommend raw cat kibble and treats. If you have any
success stories about your finicky cat, please share them.
DWhat To Feed
Meats. The goal, of course, is to feed our pets as similarly
as is practical to how they would eat as predators in nature.
Cats are carnivores. Their digestive organs are the same as
those of humans. However, their digestive organs and diges-
tive secretions are designed to function best on a relatively
fatty, high-protein diet of mainly raw animal meats as well as
grass and other vege-
tables. So you should
chop or slice meats
as finely as possible
to ease the digestive
burden. Large chunks
of food tend to lead to
frequent barfing.
Meat choices:
• Fowl (chicken and turkey, sliced or ground)
• Hoofed mammals (cow, steer, lamb, deer, buffalo). I don’t
feed any of these to Carmella—I don’t believe they are
healthful; cats do not prey upon them.
• Fish (tilapia, salmon, white fish, smelt, anchovies, clams,
scallops, etc., sliced, filleted, ground)
• Organs (liver, heart, gizzard, etc.) I am not convinced that I
need to add them to Carmella’s diet, considering her hunt-
ing habits; I believe she is getting taurine and all the other
essential nutrients she needs. Liver seems too toxic to feed
to any cat.
• Bone and marrow, finely chopped or ground. I rarely feed
these to Carmella because of her hunting habit.
Vegetables. Cats have pointy incisor teeth which are suited
solely to tearing flesh. They do not possess flat molars which
we have for mastication, that is grinding and crushing plant
fibers, to release their nutrients. As such, cats are not suited
to digesting fibrous vegetables well. Nonetheless, the fiber
and microflora in raw vegetables will be very useful for their
bowel health. Cats will eat grass, and when they eat rodents
and birds they ingest their bowel contents, which would
include semi- or fully-digested vegetables and seeds and
grains. To increase their nutrient intake, we can help cats by
finely chopping, blending and juicing fibrous vegetables and
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fresh-cut grass to make their juices more available—that’s
where most of the nutrients are. Add the juicy pulp from your
juicer to ground and sliced animal meats and avocado. If you
are short on veggies, snip some green grass from your lawn
or a flower pot if you are an apartment dweller—standard
grass is as good as wheatgrass. The veggie nutrients, fiber
and microflora will do wonders for any toxic pet.
Avocado. The oily fruit is a great co-anchor for any cat’s (or
dog’s) diet. Mash the avocado up to make it easy for cat to
lick and swallow. Some “authorities” advise that avocado is
toxic to pets. I have no personal or word-of-mouth experi-
ence which lends any credibility to that notion. My three
raw-fed cats have loved avocado, provided that it’s mashed
up. Dogs love avocado as well. It imparts lustrous sheen to
any coat of fur and helps resolve dry skin problems.
Nuts and Seeds. Whole, chopped and ground raw nuts and
seeds are suitable, provided that they are not old and rancid.
Soft coconut flesh is also good. Nut and seed butters are very
sticky, so mix them with water or a juicy blend of veggie pulp
or avoid them altogether if your cat struggles to get them
down.
Treats. Cats love raw, dried fowl and fish treats (cubes or
whole small fish) and sea vegetable leaves. If your cat has a
persistent flea problem, there are yeast-based B-vitamin tab-
lets for that—cats love the flavor and enjoy them as treats.
Catnip, fresh or dried, is an occasional must.
Water. Distilled, reverse osmosis, filtered, spring and rain wa-
ter are suitable. Keep clean water in a glass, stainless steel or
ceramic (not aluminum) bowl at all times.
D What Not To Feed
• Cooked and preserved foods of any kind are toxic, because
they corrupt animal’s senses and they destroy health. Avoid
cooked and dried kibble. Raw dried kibble is generally OK in
moderation; however, it should not be offered regularly.
• Do not feed your cat a diet with more than 25% raw cow/
steer beef, lamb or other hoofed mammal. Again, in nature,
cats would not likely catch and eat them, but the biochemi-
cal profiles of these foods are not very different from the
natural primary food sources of cats. The key here is offering
these meats in moderation.
• Raw pork has too high of a risk of containing parasites to be
safe in any amount.
• Do not feed your cat a diet with more than 25% fish. In na-
ture, cats would not likely catch and eat fish. The biochemi-
cal profile of fish is different, yet not necessarily harmful in
moderation, than cats’ natural primary animal food sources
(rodents and birds).
• Avoid factory-farm raised, anti-biotic inoculated, GMO and
processed food.
• Avoid dairy (cheese and cooked and raw milk).
• Avoid cooked eggs. Raw eggs are OK, but not on an every-
day basis.
• Starchy and sugary (carbohydrate) foods are not part of a
cat’s natural diet (except for the small amounts of predigest-
ed grains they might obtain from the bowel contents of birds
and rodents). If your cat does enjoy and is able to digest and
keep balanced and healthy with occasional portions of raw
squash, carrot pulp, corn and sweet fruit, I would like to hear
about it! Grains (other than corn and sprouted grains, which
are not really necessary) should be avoided.
• Bitter and sharp herbs, including garlic and onions, are toxic
and can result in undesirable behavioral changes.
• Chlorinated and fluoridated tap water, as well as fetid water
of any kind, must be avoided.
15
DProcuring Animal Foods
If you are like me, you have no desire to kill and chop up
fresh animals. Source fresh and frozen animal meats from
your local grocery store or butcher. Some stores offer pack-
ages of freshly-ground raw turkey, chicken and fish as well
their parts. Most stores sell frozen, unprocessed fowl and
fish parts. Seek organic meats. If they are not available and
you want to feed kitty the best food, there are online source
for organic frozen pet foods which can be mailed to you. If
you have access to fresh chicken eggs from local farms and
farmer’s markets, you are fortunate; otherwise, purchase or-
ganic eggs from stores.
Kitty treats and raw kibble can be purchased at some animal
feed stores and from various online mail order companies.
I purchase Wildside Salmon Treats for Carmella from The
Barfer Shoppe (www.barfershoppe.com)—she loves them!
DStoring & Serving Animal Foods
Most vegans, like I, abhor having frozen meat in their refrig-
erator and freezer. This issue is solved by buying a separate
freezer which can be kept in your garage or utility room.
Second-hand freezers are often available via Craig’s list and
classified ads. A refrigerator is not really necessary, except
for eggs which, in my opinion, are innocuous in my kitchen
refrigerator.
I manage animal meat storage as such:
• Bags of frozen chicken parts (breast, thighs, legs) can easily
go in kitty’s freezer. For convenience, the parts can be re-
moved from their package and placed in individual zip-lock
bags, and placed in the freezer.
• Packages of freshly-ground chicken and turkey are sold
in many grocery stores. I typically buy three packages at a
time. At home, I spoon about three ounces of the meat into
zip-lock bags, then place them in the freezer. I pat the mass
down flat—this quickens the thawing time. The frozen pack-
ages require one to two hours to thaw out. Placing them in a
bowl or sink of hot water reduces thawing time.
• I typically chop or mince celery, lettuce, kale and/or grass
or use veggie pulp from my juicer and mix that into the meat
in the serving bowl; the mixture is about 50% veggies and
50% meat.
DWhen To Feed
Cats usually want breakfast early. I feed Carmella ground
chicken or turkey with chopped veggies two out of every
three mornings, with sliced fish on the other day. That fuels
and energizes her for a morning of exploring and hunting in
the neighboring jungle habitat.
In mid-morning or around noon, I either place a portion of
mashed avocado in her bowl, or I beat up an egg in the bowl.
For dinner, around 6:00 PM it’s more meat and veggies. I only
feed her no more than one fish meal per day, and I don’t feed
her fish every day.
If I know or suspect that Carmella has found her own fresh-
kill meal, I only leave some avocado in her bowl for dinner.
About every third day, instead of a meat for dinner, I offer
only avocado and chopped veggies.
DHow Much To Feed
How much food per serving is intuitive, based on experience
and observation. It’s better to serve small portions than to
overfeed. If the portions are too small, the cat will likely give
you an “is that all there is?” glare. In that case, increase the
portion size a little bit. If kitty needs to lose weight, keep
the portions small. If he or she expresses dissatisfaction, give
some loving cuddles and play time several times per day,
and offer a treat once a day between meals.
Observe your cat’s waistline. His waist should not bulge out
beyond the hips and the belly should not sag. Also observe
the cat’s odor, coat and eyes to ascertain if he or she is clean
or toxic—if toxic, you may be overfeeding, or, if the cat is still
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in the beginning stage of dietary transition, more time may
be needed for his or her internal purification.
If you can catch your cat in the act of defecating, look for
smooth, quick relief and for straining, which may indicate
overfeeding. If kitty is in transition and in process of losing
excess weight, signs of toxemia and bowel movement diffi-
culty are to be expected—they will improve as the weeks go
by.
Keep kitty satisfied, energized and lean with enough food
and plenty of loving attention between meals so that he or
she has more to look forward to each day than just food.
DFood Combining
Include raw vegetable with almost every raw meat, avocado,
nut and seed serving. Chop up your vegetables and mix or
mash them together with the fatty foods. Also mix in the pulp
from your veggie juicing operations, or use freshly-cut grass.
Go with a roughly 50 percent proportion of meat, perhaps
higher in the beginning until kitty gets used to the veggie
mixture. Avoid mixing meat with egg and mixing any high-
carbohydrate foods with meat, nuts and seeds.
DFasting is OK
If your cat is not hungry and wants to fast, that’s perfectly
fine. Allow kitty to take care of himself or herself in the way
that comes natural. If kitty’s appetite and behavior seem very
unusual for more than a day, consider an examination with a
holistic veterinarian. Do not force feed. Cats are self-healing
marvels, and they know when food is not helpful. Let nature
do the healing, and let your friend know you are there for
him or her.
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