The suspense over my benefits-entitlement decision is killing me. Likewise, suspense over whether the NHS will fund my op is unsettling. I hate not knowing things at the best of times, but when it's something potentially life-changing... yuck. I've been frantically redirecting my energy into A Bed of Thorns, largely to good effect, and into hunting down plastic-free cat food that my little darling can both digest and enjoy.
It's a no-go for crunchies - the moisture level in those things is key and has to be preserved by something tougher than cardboard, and the oil seeps into anything porous. Royal Canin put everything into a foiled-plastic bag. As for wet food, Sheba (the brand puss both accepts and digests without problems) does come in foil trays with foil lids, if one looks hard enough. To my surprise, they work out cheaper than the plastic pouches if I shop around. Ordering a supermarket-shelf slab of those from Zooplus, they arrived packed only (and cleverly) in cardboard. Score! A bit limiting on the flavours compared to the plastic pouches, since most of the foil tray flavours are "sauce" and my girl is a "jelly" cat who occasionally goes for "gravy" and won't eat "pate" or "terrine" or "loaf". The last three, I don't think she knows how to eat them.
She was somewhere between 4 and 6 when she came to me, and set in her food ways. She'd clearly had a mainly dry diet with wet for treats only, whereas I wanted her on a mainly wet diet with a side of kibble. I wanted her to eat real meat and made several attempts to convert her, but experimentation proved that her digestion just can't handle it, even though she's willing at the front end. Supermarket-shelf crap-food made of mostly-not-meat it must be. She'll gladly try something new if it smells good, but it's taken her this long to figure out how to eat lumps of wet food without them falling off the (specially designed) dish. Loaf/terrine/pate style gets licked and licked until it falls off, then she gives me a pathetic look. I got the same look after she followed a baby rat around the garden for 40 minutes, tapping it hopefully the way she taps my arm when she wants something. Food... yes. But... how?!? In her new life with me, she's never hungry enough to decide to put real effort into learning how to eat a new style of food. Which is a good thing from the perspective of the local fauna, which can be legging it (or winging it) over the horizon while she's still meowing for the metaphorical tin-opener. Compare and contrast the neighbourhood stalwart, Borrowed Feline, who strikes at anything that moves then looks puzzled about who went and put that dead bird there. Or, if he likes you, brings it over to share. (I've been off his gift-list since I got my own cat).
I may be able to tempt Madam into branching out into the other Sheba foil tray ranges over time. Bonus - supermarkets sell most of the varieties singly, so I don't need to end up with a slab of 22 that she hates so much it has to go to the local shelter. (We did that a lot when she first joined the household!) Meanwhile, she'll get an awful lot of chicken in jelly, broken up by the occasional plastic packet of something else from my existing stock.
It's a no-go for crunchies - the moisture level in those things is key and has to be preserved by something tougher than cardboard, and the oil seeps into anything porous. Royal Canin put everything into a foiled-plastic bag. As for wet food, Sheba (the brand puss both accepts and digests without problems) does come in foil trays with foil lids, if one looks hard enough. To my surprise, they work out cheaper than the plastic pouches if I shop around. Ordering a supermarket-shelf slab of those from Zooplus, they arrived packed only (and cleverly) in cardboard. Score! A bit limiting on the flavours compared to the plastic pouches, since most of the foil tray flavours are "sauce" and my girl is a "jelly" cat who occasionally goes for "gravy" and won't eat "pate" or "terrine" or "loaf". The last three, I don't think she knows how to eat them.
She was somewhere between 4 and 6 when she came to me, and set in her food ways. She'd clearly had a mainly dry diet with wet for treats only, whereas I wanted her on a mainly wet diet with a side of kibble. I wanted her to eat real meat and made several attempts to convert her, but experimentation proved that her digestion just can't handle it, even though she's willing at the front end. Supermarket-shelf crap-food made of mostly-not-meat it must be. She'll gladly try something new if it smells good, but it's taken her this long to figure out how to eat lumps of wet food without them falling off the (specially designed) dish. Loaf/terrine/pate style gets licked and licked until it falls off, then she gives me a pathetic look. I got the same look after she followed a baby rat around the garden for 40 minutes, tapping it hopefully the way she taps my arm when she wants something. Food... yes. But... how?!? In her new life with me, she's never hungry enough to decide to put real effort into learning how to eat a new style of food. Which is a good thing from the perspective of the local fauna, which can be legging it (or winging it) over the horizon while she's still meowing for the metaphorical tin-opener. Compare and contrast the neighbourhood stalwart, Borrowed Feline, who strikes at anything that moves then looks puzzled about who went and put that dead bird there. Or, if he likes you, brings it over to share. (I've been off his gift-list since I got my own cat).
I may be able to tempt Madam into branching out into the other Sheba foil tray ranges over time. Bonus - supermarkets sell most of the varieties singly, so I don't need to end up with a slab of 22 that she hates so much it has to go to the local shelter. (We did that a lot when she first joined the household!) Meanwhile, she'll get an awful lot of chicken in jelly, broken up by the occasional plastic packet of something else from my existing stock.
no subject
Date: 19 Jan 2019 09:37 (UTC)