Regardless of our dietary habits, virtually all of us are at
risk of coming in contact with contaminated food, be it spinach or lettuce or miscellaneous. But there is something about poison in cat and dog food that is
especially upsetting. Maybe it’s the childlike trust our companion
animals place in us - they don’t choose what they eat, we do. And when we screw
up, they are the ones who suffer.
This weekend’s events have again revived the discussion of
what best to feed our own brood, a sometimes excruciating back-and-forth that
began in 2004.
My wife and I have four cats; three years ago we had six.
Our two boys - first Mookie, then Buster - each died at an early age from renal
failure. Mookie was nine when he began losing weight dramatically, in 2004.
Within three months of his diagnosis he was dead. Before we had him euthanized
- his kidneys were so swollen with foreign mass that they had nearly pinched
off his digestive tract, making it impossible for him to defecate - we were
told that his condition was congenital and extremely rare. According to a
veterinary specialist, Mookie had basically been dying since the day he was
born. He was the runt of a litter found in my parents’ garage in North Carolina
who grew to be a big, smart, and by all appearances healthy boy. Then he was
gone.
Eighteen months later, the unthinkable happened. Again.
Buster, the biological brother of three of our four girls, was constipated. It
could have been any of a dozen things, but it wasn’t. It was kidney disease. He
was six.
That’s when we panicked. Was the cause of Mookie’s renal
failure a misdiagnosis? Was something in our apartment making our cats deathly ill - the air, the water?
Was it the food? One of our vets (we had four by my count) told us that
certain off-the-shelf dry foods had been blamed for causing renal failure years
ago, but that the problem had been corrected. One vet would recommend “upscale”
brands, while another claimed that one food is usually just as good as another.
We were even told the lining in the ubiquitous pop-top wet food cans was
suspected to cause health problems. What the hell do you do with that
information? In the end, figuring more expensive had to be better, we put
everyone on Science Diet, both canned and dry.
Buster died in April of last year, two years and eight days
after Mookie.
Then last month Zoe began losing weight. We were sure it was
her kidneys, but according to lab work that isn’t the problem. More likely,
we’re told, it’s the stress of getting her butt kicked daily by Izzy, our
resident bully. Still we recently put everyone on Eukanuba Low Residue canned,
to help their digestion. It’s not affected by the recall, but it just as easily
could be.
In the meantime, we’ve talked about trying “people food,” or
a pre-prepared vegetarian or vegan diet (we’re both vegetarian). Of course we
worry about making sure they have the right vitamins, etc., but knowing how mainstream
pet food is made, the veggie brands make a compelling case.
Sure, Evolution
Diet Pet Foods do not contain meat, but they do contain all the same
proteins that are in meat. And without the rotting animal heads,
spines, guts, dried blood, cholesterol laiden animal fat, and fecal
matter that makes up animal meal and other animal by products.
Is it
any wonder that the leading causes of death in dogs, cats and ferrets
are heart disease, stroke, cancer and kidney failure?
More compelling is the fact that we have no real reason to believe
they’re eating healthy now. Like those who depend on us, all we have is blind faith,
and its track record is suspect, to say the least.
Photo: Mookie, 1994-2004