...that has come out of the current Raw Vs. Kibble discussion is the
real life stories we are getting from folks who tried or succeeded in
making a swap to raw...the mechanics of raw feeding. What it is like
for them. What some of the downsides are. So here is mine.
I *tried* going raw, and I freely admit I failed. Ping was not sure he
liked the change for the first few days, but then in his own Ping-like
fashion, he simply shrugged and said "Whatever, Dude." Then he squatted
down on his haunches and started chowing. Experimentation showed that
he liked raw wings very much, but he did not like them cold. The little
bugger wanted me to take the chill off of them, which I did by nuking
refrigerator temp. wings for about seven seconds. Just enough so that
there was a little bit of melted fat wetting the bottom of the wing
where it sat on the plate, so it smelled like...good food, to this
primate. And not like an ice cold chicken wing.
Puma, however, was another story.
Puma *hates* raw meat. She hates it, in every form. She hates it ground
up and added to pulverized kibble, in a mix designed to get her used
to the idea. She hates it cooked, and chopped up. She hates it cooked,
pulverized, and added to pulverized kibble. She hates cold chicken
wings. She hates warmed chicken wings.She hates chicken guts. She hates
raw veal. She hates raw fish. She hates cooked fish. She hates pinkies,
cold, warmed, chopped, whole, cooked, you name it. Puma *hates*
anything that is not kibble. Hates it enough that she lost quite a bit
of weight while I worked with an experinced raw feeder to try to coax
her into making the change. (I do not recommend trying to make the swap
without being in contact with an experienced raw feeder. They know a
lot of kinder, gentler ways to make the transition. Remember, this is
a traumatic change for some ferrets, this can be a stressing departure
from everything they have ever known. How would you feel if someone
decided to swap you over to raw meat?)
After maybe two weeks of trying what seemed like everything under the
sun to tempt Puma's appetite, she grudgingly accepted chopped, warmed
chicken meat. No bones. And she wouldn't eat it unless I put two or
three kibble bits on top of the little dish. Those she would fling
herself upon, cram into her mouth, and run away with into a safe
place...I could hear the crunching noise...and I felt bad. Later she
would come back, and nibble around the edges of the chopped meat in the
dish as if it were ...a dish of disgusting raw meat. I told myself I
must be strong. No more kibble bits. I would put the little dish down,
and she would look up at me with a terrible expression that I cannot
describe. She hated this food, and I knew it. And if she didn't eat it
right away, Ping would simply take it from her and eat it all himself.
And she would have nothing. I had to monitor feeding time, to make sure
Puma got something into her belly.
It didn't take me long to decide that this was ferret torture. Not
for Ping, who was thriving. He gained a little bit of belly, his coat
became *beautiful*, really full, and glossy. But it was torture for
Puma. She was sad, and listless. She didn't want to play, anymore. When
I let her out to play, she ran right for the dog's bowl of dog kibble,
and stole the little chunks, one at a time. She ate them beneath the
furniture. The dog was incensed, especially when I started taking the
bowl away while Puma was out so she couldn't do that.
Everything came to a head when I got the flu, and I felt like...a cold
chicken wing on a little plate. Worse. Maybe a thawed pinkie. I didn't
have the energy to make litlle designer meals for ferrets, oversee the
meal to make sure Ping didn't eat Puma's, and make sure she got
something in her belly, and then later in the day, hunt around the
ferret room to look under all of the hidey spots to make sure Ping
hadn't stashed something....unspeakable. He did that from time to time,
and I would find things from a Wes Craven horror flick, with fang marks
around the edges. I had to do this myself, because my husband, seeing
how miserable Puma was declared this Puma torture, and would not have
anything to do with it.
I sighed deeply, declared myself a failure as a ferret mommy, and
brought back the chow bag. I put it open on the floor, and Puma walked
into the bag and ate until ler little legs couldn't support her. She
farted for days.
Now, I don't regret trying to make the swap. Ping was obviously
benefitting from the change, fat, happy, and glossy coated. He was
puzzled for a day or two, but he did fine with raw. But it was
destroying Puma's quality of life. And it was a bad thing that I was
the only person in the household willing to participate.Making the
little meals takes time and energy.Supervising meal times was a drag.
Searching for nasty things stashed in dark places was a drag, too. If
Puma had been able to make the change, I would still be feeding raw,
today. But I am not. Puma gets all the kibble she wants. Ping, too. But
I make a point of giving Ping meat, too, because I know how much he
likes it. Ping just plain likes food. It is a normal thing in my house
to be curled up on the sofa with a blow of something nice, only to
discover that Ping's little hands are now resting on the rim of the
bowl....
My experienced raw feeder was at pains to point out that Puma's
inability to make the change was rare. I believe her. But I respect
Puma's choice. Puma has only a short time on this earth, and she often
doesn't get any vote on her circumstances. I try to respect that.
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML 5402]
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