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In the fall of 2000 I was asked to remove a colony of 12 cats from a rural residence. The cats had been fed only human food scraps from a catering business, and no commercial cat food at all. When I arrived, there was a big aluminum disposable roaster full of salad and barbeque chicken wings lying on the ground. I talked to the woman who owned the property and asked her to feed the cats cat food while I was trapping. She said she would purchase some, but on each subsequent visit I found only food scraps. I finally purchased bags of food myself and left them for her to feed the cats. The colony was to be removed. The woman and her husband were separated. The husband had agreed to come back only if she chose a few cats to neuter and keep as pets, and send the rest to the shelter (likely for euthanasia). He was upset by the constant birth and death of kittens. He was not interested in owning eighteen neutered cats, either. The woman chose two cats which were to be neutered, and the remaining twelve (by her count) were to be trapped and taken to the shelter. In the end, there were eighteen cats and older kittens removed. I do not like removals and try to save as many kittens as possible from these situations. However, most of these kittens were well over four plus months. One kitten was obviously ill. A peach colored longhair, "Pumpkin," as the woman called him, could only walk a few steps at a time. He also had a serious upper respiratory that crusted his eyes and nose. He did not run to feed with the rest of the kittens, and the woman periodically handfed him. I was able to hand-capture this kitten on my first visit, and while it seemed clear that it was going to cost a lot of money to fix him up, I felt it was worth it, especially if it turned out he was the only kitten I might be able to save from this colony. I named the kitten Otto, for my grandfather. I was unable to get a veterinary appointment for a few days so under the vet's phone advice I started him on Amoxidrops, and the respiratory infection immediately began to clear. However, it was clear the kitten was very lame. He would walk a few steps and then stop to rest on his side or, more comically and more often, flat on his back with his legs splayed out like roadkill. His elbow joints were round and swollen. He would only play from a lying position. However, he had an excellent disposition. Given his disability, I took Otto with me whereever I went. Because he could not walk easily and was content to sit still, he sat on the passenger seat of my truck and went to work with me every day. His condition was so severe that the veterinarian asked me to leave him for the day while she examined him. When I called to check on him, I learned they had xrayed him and sent the films off to a radiologist. Dollar signs flashed alarmingly before my eyes, but the vet generously reassured me that she was paying for the radiologist from her own pocket! In the meantime, I had researched Otto's physical signs and tentatively guessed at secondary nutritional hyperparathyroidism, given his nutritional background. When I have animals come in with an unfamiliar problem, I often research it before the vet appointment. This is not so much to see if I am "right" or "wrong," but more to test myself to see what signs the animals has that I am accurately noticing and passing on to the vet. If I turn out to be correct, or close to correct, I am noticing the right things about the cat and can be reassured that I am passing correct information onto veterinarians when I call them for advice. If I am way off the mark, I know to look more closely at the animal and its behavior in the future. For example, I had not realized the extent of the swelling in Otto's joints until the vet pointed it out at the exam. Now I know to look. The Cornell Book of Cats was quite helpful. Secondary nutritional hyperparathyroidism results when an animal receives a diet too high in phosphorous and too low in calcium. The cats at Otto's colony had been fed only human food with few bones. Wild cats eat bones in rodents and songbirds. A fed cat will eat less wildlife. If fed commerical cat food, the cat has a properly balanced diet. But human diets are higher in phosphorous and lower in calcium than what a cat requires. This imbalance results in skeletal deformities, swollen joints, and other complications (see links at the bottom of the page). I had been familiar with "metabolic bone disease" in opossums. Rescued opossums fed a poor diet often seem fine at the time of release, but die later from unseen problems caused by the poor diet fed when young. For this reason, "possum people" are adament that wildlife rehabilitators feed rescued opossums a particular rescue diet. However, I had not realized this also was a potential problem for felines and other species until Otto appeared in my life. The veterinarian and radiologist diagnosed nutritional hyperparathyroidism, and the xrays were presented to me with circles around swelling at the joints, bowed leg bones, and a deformity in the vertebrae of the neck. (One problem, unfortunately, was left uncircled). The veterinarian tentatively suggested euthanasia, given severe sepsis (bacterial infection) in the joints and the length of treatment required to clear this up. However, at this point little Otto seemed quite content toddling around in his limited way, and the respiratory infection was entirely cleared. Before deciding, I trucked him off to another vet in another town for a second opinion. This second vet was very much a "tell it like it is" vet, and if he felt the kitten was unlikely to salvage any sort of comfortable life, he would definitely say "get out the .22!" Bedside manner might not be what he was best known for, but I admired his honesty. He looked over the xrays, examined the kitten and said "I wouldn't kill him yet." So Otto got his reprieve. Otto was put on amoxicillian and cortisone for the bacterial infection and pain in his joints. Vacation time had arrived and Mark and I had planned to go camping. Otto got his own tent and came along. Click here for camping photos of Otto (LINK not active yet; please check back). By this time, the kitten has entrenched himself as a member of the Biology Department at Ithaca College. Students came by to visit him every day and I envisioned a possible future life for him as a pet therapy cat at a local assisted living center. Slowly, the infection in his joints cleared, and he became quite playful. He could even run and spin in a skittering manner, although he still rested on his side and slept on his back. It seemed Otto might make it. But the radiologist, two vets, and myself had failed to note how small his pelvic opening was. It was not one of the many problems circled on the xray, and I had only paid attention to circled spots. This was a tragic error, since deformity of the pelvis is common in this syndrome and was mentioned in almost every book I looked at after the fact (hindsight is, of course, 20/20). Once Otto began to eat normally, was wormed, and began to pass a harder, more adult stool, he became severely constipated. The poor kitten simply could not pass a stool, and he was in misery. Off to the vet he went for an enema, and the restricted pelvis became immediately apparent. Otto was either going to have to have his tiny pelvis broken and rebuilt from scratch, or he would be on laxatives all his life, kept in a constant state of diarrhea, with guarenteed periodic bouts with constipation if he got into food he shouldn't eat. The veterinarian finally managed to clear little Otto out so that he was temporarily comfortable, and I went down to the clinic to see him. He was skittering happily around his cage, and I took him out to play on my lap. He immediately flipped over on his back, as usual, and waved his paws at me enthusiastically. It was the best he had felt in days, and he was happy to share his comfort with me. I have been responsible for the deaths of many animals throughout my varied careers in animal issues, but this was devastating. Kill a kitten simply because he couldn't poop? After all the little animal had gone through, and his wonderful disposition, it seemed impossible. But I did not have the thousands of dollars that would have been required locally to rebuild his pelvis. If I did, those thousands could save many other kittens. Without surgery his chances for adoption as a pet therapy animal were likely dashed. He would require constant attention by already overworked staff (and how do you keep forty nursing home residents from slipping the cat forbidden treats?) If he lived with our gang of animals he certainly would be getting into the food of the other cats. Given his friendly personality, keeping him caged or isolated in a room by himself would be torture. Both veterinarians reluctantly recommended euthanasia, and this time I agreed with them. So I spent awhile saying goodbye to Otto and stepped outside the clinic when they put him down. In the past I have always held any cats I have had to have euthanized, but I could not face my betrayal of this little guy. He was a product of neglect and abuse. He kept his end of the bargain with a cheerful disposition and stoic acceptance of pain. In the end he was sacrificed by my unwillingness to put him through more pain, and the weight of a checkbook against the needs of future homeless kittens. Otto was brought to me wrapped in a towel, and I went immediately to the plant nursery to buy him a shrub. Otto now lies beneath the roots of a potentilla the same buttery color as his fur, at my old house in West Danby. His xray was made into a slide which I present at every conference I attend, to illustrate the importance of feeding cats and kittens a balanced diet. I hope to have that xray on this website, soon. Sites on secondary nutritional hyperparathyroidism |
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