Do Cats Get Colds? My House Says Yes

Short answer? Yep. Cats get colds (full breakdown here). I’ve lived it… more than once. And you know what? It feels a lot like having a sick toddler who can’t blow their nose and won’t admit they feel bad.

I’m Kayla, and I live with two cats—Miso (chaos goblin) and Daisy (queen of naps). I’ve also spent years with dogs, and they’re a whole different ballgame (here’s why some folks think dogs come out on top). I’ve tried humidifiers, steam, special foods, and one frantic vet visit that ended with a calm nod and a “you did the right thing.” So here’s my straight-talk, first-hand review of cat colds. Spoiler: they’re real, they spread, and they’re not fun, but you can handle it.

Also, a quick rating because I’m me:

  • “Do cats get colds?” Truth Score: 5/5, absolutely.
  • Fun Factor: 0/5. Sneezes on my pillow? No thanks.
  • Manageable at home (for mild cases): 4/5 with some simple steps.

What it looked like in my home (the first time)

Miso got the first cold after we fostered a tiny kitten. Two days later, Miso started sneezing. Then he had a wet nose, watery eyes, and little crusts in the corners. He still chased toy mice, but he ate slower. He’d sniff the food, sneeze right into it, and walk away. Cute? Kinda. Gross? Yes.

Daisy’s cold was nerve-wracking. She’s older. Her nose sounded stuffed. She hid under the bed. She skipped dinner. That was my red flag. When a cat stops eating, it’s not “wait and see.” It’s “watch close and call your vet.”

By the way, I didn’t give it to them. Human colds don’t pass to cats. But cats do pass colds to other cats. Trust me—my couch learned that the hard way.


What a “cat cold” really is (quick and plain)

It’s an upper respiratory infection (veterinary deep dive here). Usually viral. Common names: herpesvirus (the cat kind) and calicivirus. Think sneezing, runny nose, eye gunk, less energy, and less appetite. It’s not the same as pneumonia, but it can slide that way if it gets rough. Kittens, older cats, and stressed cats have a harder time. Shelters see it a lot.


The small things that helped (my home kit)

Here’s what I actually used and how it went.

  • Cool-mist humidifier: 5/5. I ran it near their bed. It loosened the gunk. I cleaned it daily so it didn’t get funky.
  • Steam time: 4/5. I ran a hot shower and sat with Miso in the bathroom for 10 minutes. He hated the carrier but loved the steam. Helped him breathe. No essential oils. Just steam.
  • Warm, smelly food: 5/5. I warmed canned food for 10 seconds, stirred well, and added a splash of tuna water (from the can packed in water). The smell was key. Daisy finally ate.
  • Fluids: 4/5. I added a little warm water to wet food. Simple. Kept them hydrated.
  • Face wipes: 4/5. I used a soft cloth with warm water to wipe their nose and eyes. Gentle strokes. No rubbing hard. If the discharge turned green or thick, I called the vet.
  • Rest and quiet: 5/5. I set up a cozy corner: blanket, water nearby, litter box close. Less jumping, more naps.

And yes, I washed bowls and swapped out blankets daily. Germs don’t need an invitation.


What didn’t help (and what I stopped)

  • Human cold meds: 0/5. Hard no. Many are toxic to cats. Don’t guess. Don’t “just a bit.” Big risk.
  • Essential oil diffusers: 1/5. Sounds cozy; cats’ lungs say nope. Can irritate airways. I shelved them.
  • Forcing food: 1/5. Stress made things worse. I used smell to tempt instead. If they won’t eat for a day, that’s vet time.

When I called the vet (the red flags I watch now)

Here’s my personal checklist. If I see any of these, I call:

  • Not eating for 24 hours (sooner for kittens or seniors)
  • Labored breathing (open-mouth breathing, tummy working hard, blue or gray gums)
  • Thick green or yellow snot, or eyes sealed shut
  • Fever signs: hot ears, very warm belly, low energy
  • Dehydration: gums tacky, skin doesn’t spring back
  • Coughing fits or drooling
  • Kitten, pregnant cat, or senior cat acting off at all

With Daisy, the not-eating thing did it. The vet gave her meds for secondary infection and eye drops. She perked up in two days and asked for snacks like a tiny bear.


How long it lasted (because time feels slow when you’re worried)

Miso’s mild cold took about 6 days. Days 2–3 were the messiest. Day 4 was better. By day 6, just a few sneezes. Daisy took a bit longer—about 9 days—since she’s older. The vet said that’s normal.

Sometimes a cat’s cold can flare again under stress. Loud house guests, a move, or, in our case, the vacuum. So I keep life calm when they’re sniffly.


Can the other cat catch it? Yep. Here’s what I did.

I tried to separate food and water bowls. I cleaned the litter scoop after each use. I washed my hands between petting them. Did I do it perfectly? No. But it slowed the spread. Also, our cats are vaccinated (that FVRCP shot). It doesn’t block every case, but in my home, it made symptoms lighter. Worth it.
If you want a deeper dive into preventive care tactics, Pet Care Services breaks them down in plain language.


My tiny gear review (stuff I’d buy again)

  • Cool-mist humidifier: Yes, please. Quiet and easy to clean. I keep one for winter anyway.
  • Soft, stinky wet food: 100% kept us out of trouble. Warming it helped.
  • Extra bowls and blankets: Swapping them out each day made clean-up simple.
  • Calming diffuser (like Feliway): Nice-to-have. Kept the peace when both cats were moody. Not magic, but I noticed fewer hissy fits.
  • A cozy cave bed can work wonders too—my neighbor’s pup swears by the one in this review.

Note: I’ve tried those “miracle powders” friends push. For us? Meh. I trust my vet over “my cousin swears by it” posts.


Little things I wish someone told me

  • Your cat can sneeze on you all day; you won’t catch their cold. But your other cat might.
  • A cat with a stuffed nose can’t smell food well. Warm it up and make it stinky. That’s the trick.
  • Cats hide pain. If your gut says “this feels off,” call your vet. You won’t sound silly. I promise.
  • Hydration sneaks in with wet food. You don’t need fancy tricks for most mild cases.

Another random pro-tip for the humans: when my cats are under the weather I end up spamming my friends with “get-well soon” cat selfies in our Kik groups. Those chats can jump from wholesome pet pics to, well, spicier territory in a heartbeat. If you’re curious about how that side of the app works (and how to keep your privacy intact), take a peek at the Kik nudes guide — it breaks down etiquette, safety pointers, and smart sharing habits so you stay in control before you ever hit send.

If being cooped up with a sniffly feline has you craving some in-person adult conversation once the fur-kids are on the mend, the local dating scene has you covered—check out Santa Ana hookups here for a quick way to browse nearby singles and set up a low-pressure coffee or cocktail date the moment you can finally leave the tissue pile behind.


So… do cats get colds?

Yes. I’ve cleaned the tissues and the teary eyes and the little nose prints on the window. Mild colds are common and often pass with rest and care. But some colds need meds. Watch the red flags. Keep things calm. Warm the food. Run the humidifier. And if your cat stops

My Life With a White Maine Coon Cat

I live with a big white Maine Coon named Casper. He looks like a snow cloud with paws. He’s sweet, stubborn, and so funny. And yes, he’s huge. If you’re wondering what it’s really like, here’s my honest take—good, tricky, and everything in between. I’ve also written more about the day-to-day surprises in life with a white Maine Coon over here. For anyone unfamiliar with the breed, this in-depth profile covers the Maine Coon’s origins, typical size, and personality.

Meet Casper (aka The Walking Pillow)

Casper is 18 pounds and almost 40 inches from nose to tail tip. People gasp when they see him. The long ear tufts, the lion ruff, the plumy tail—that tail could dust a shelf. He has one blue eye and one green eye. It’s striking. Strangers think he’s a small dog.

He chirps more than he meows. It’s this trilling sound, like a tiny bird who has opinions. He talks to moths. He talks to the fridge. He talks to me while I make coffee. It’s a lot, but it’s cute.

Personality: Gentle Giant, House Clown

He follows me room to room. If I sit, he sits. If I walk to the door, he beats me there. He’s friendly with guests but slow and polite, in his own cat way. He plays fetch with a crinkly ball. I toss it down the hallway. He trots back like a proud kid.

Real moment: during a Zoom call, he laid across my keyboard and typed “;;;;;;;;;;;;”. My boss laughed. I didn’t. But then I did.

He loves water. He pats his fountain with one paw and watches the ripples. I once found him with a wet head and zero shame. Bath day is weirdly fine.

The Coat: Gorgeous, But Let’s Be Real

White looks fancy. White also shows everything. A sneeze? You’ll see it. A ketchup smudge from my sandwich? I saw that too. I wipe his fur with a damp cloth if he gets a little spot. For greasy bits, I rub in a pinch of cornstarch, wait, then comb it out. Works like a charm.

Mats show up behind the ears, in armpits, and on the back legs. I use an Andis steel comb first, then a Chris Christensen slicker for fluff. Five to ten minutes a day keeps him smooth. If I skip two days, he tattles on me with tangles.

Winter brings static. I run a humidifier and touch a metal lamp before I pet him. In summer, I watch his pink ears and nose by sunny windows. White cats can burn, so I limit long naps in hard sun. Simple curtains help a lot.

Health Stuff I Actually Did

I learned about a few breed things from my vet. So I got checks:

  • Heart check (HCM screen): Casper had a cardio exam and an echo at 1 year. We repeat each year. It gives me peace.
  • Hips: our vet watched his gait and did X-rays once. All good so far.
  • Hearing: white cats with blue eyes can have hearing issues. We did a BAER test. He hears fine, but he’s a little slower to respond on his blue-eye side. It’s kind of cute.

If you ever need help locating a reputable feline cardiologist, groomer, or sitter, the directory at Pet Care Services can point you in the right direction. For a broad overview of potential breed-specific health issues, WebMD’s Maine Coon guide is a handy starting point.

We do dental cleanings when needed. I also keep pet insurance. Mine runs about $38 a month and has paid off once for a tummy scare. When winter rolls in, I keep an eye on sneezes because cats can catch colds too—our household learned that firsthand, and this helpful rundown walks through what to watch for.

Gear That Fit His Size (Because He’s… Big)

  • Litter box: stainless jumbo box (iPrimio XL). High sides. No small top-entry box. His floof said no thanks.
  • Litter: Dr. Elsey’s Ultra clumps well and doesn’t cling to his long fur like some softer litters.
  • Carrier: I use a large dog crate for vet trips (Petmate Vari Kennel). He can turn around and breathe.
  • Comb and slicker: steel comb daily, slicker for finish. I skip the Furminator on him; it pulled too much undercoat.
  • Fountain: Casper likes the Catit flower fountain. He taps it like a tiny fisherman.

He eats more than my old tabby. Most days: two 3-ounce cans of wet food plus a small scoop of high-protein dry at night. I use a slow feeder bowl so he doesn’t scarf and, well, barf.

Shedding: The Snowfall That Never Ends

Fur floats like dandelion seeds. It sticks to black leggings like a magnet. I run a Levoit Core air purifier in the living room and vacuum every other day. A Scotch-Brite lint roller lives by the front door. Guests thank me.

When I brush daily, I get fewer tumbleweeds. When I don’t, my robot vacuum throws a fit and eats a fur ribbon. Learned that fast.

House Life: Kids, Dogs, and Zooms

Casper is patient with my niece. She learned “soft hands,” and he lets her pat his big paws. He did great with my neighbor’s calm Lab after slow door-sniff meets over two weeks. Seeing the two of them together reminded me of a friend’s tongue-in-cheek argument about why dogs are sometimes considered better roommates than cats, even if I’m firmly on Team Feline.

High energy dogs? I’d go slow and use baby gates. He likes rules.

He watches birds, not TV. He sits on the sofa arm like a snow lion and guards the block. Delivery drivers wave. I’m not kidding.

The Messy Bits I Didn’t Expect

  • He opened the pantry once and chewed a bag of marshmallows. The bag survived. The marshmallows… didn’t.
  • With long pants (that’s what I call his back leg fur), he sometimes gets litter stuck. I did a tiny “booty trim” with round-tip scissors. Zero shame. Big help.
  • He knocked a water glass off my nightstand at 3 a.m. Then chirped like, “We both saw gravity.”

Costs and Time, For Real

  • Food: $60–$90 a month, depending on sales.
  • Litter: about $25 a month.
  • Vet and tests: varies, but the heart echo ran a few hundred.
  • Insurance: around $38 a month for me.
  • Time: 10 minutes a day for brushing and a quick wipe of the fountain. Playtime after dinner.

It’s not cheap. He’s worth it. But it’s not nothing.

Things I Wish I Knew Sooner

  • Big cat, big box. I should’ve bought the jumbo from day one.
  • Keep baby wipes for paws and little stains on white fur.
  • Humidifier for winter. Static shocks ruin the vibe.
  • Close cabinets. He learned handles in a week.
  • Training matters. He sits for treats. Yes, a cat that sits.

Who Should Get a White Maine Coon?

Get one if you want a social cat who acts a bit like a dog and a bit like a cloud. Someone home a lot will love this. Families can do great if the house is calm and respectful. If you travel non-stop, or if cat hair makes you crazy, think hard. This is a lot of fluff and a lot of love.

Even though I’m mostly a homebody, I still like to schedule the occasional adults-only weekend getaway. Brittany, for instance, has a surprisingly lively libertine scene; before my last trip I researched the region’s discreet venues on this detailed roundup of sex clubs in Brittany which breaks down ambiance, dress codes, and etiquette so you can pick the right spot and focus on enjoying your night out. Closer to home, there are nights when a quick dose of spontaneous chemistry sounds fun; if I'm anywhere near South Jersey, Glassboro hookups makes it simple to browse local meetup spots and connect with like-minded adults fast—saving me from endless swiping and letting me get right to the fun part.

My Verdict

Casper is the best kind of chaos. He’s warm and goofy and so very pretty. The white coat takes work. The size takes planning. But when he rests his giant head on my arm and chirps, I melt.

Would I choose a white Maine Coon again? You know what? Yes. I’d buy the jumbo litter box first, though. And a second lint roller. Just saying.

The Cat Wipes I Actually Use (And Which Ones My Cats Let Me Touch Them With)

I’m Kayla. I live with two cats who act like tiny, fluffy bosses. Miso is a 12-year-old gray tabby with a stiff back and a sweet purr. Bean is a tuxedo with a big voice and chin acne that flares up if I blink wrong. Baths? Hard no. So, pet wipes keep the peace in our house.

Here’s what I’ve tried, what worked, what flopped, and the funny stuff that happened in between.

Why I even needed wipes (it wasn’t just for cute paws)

My turning point was a litter box blowout at 2 a.m. You know the type. I reached for paper towels. Big mistake. Smear city. I swore I’d keep cat-safe wipes from then on—something gentle, no harsh smell, and safe if they lick.

Also:

  • Miso can’t bend and groom like before.
  • Bean gets crusty eyes and that gunky chin acne.
  • We travel to my sister’s house once a month. Car fur + crumbs = wipe job.

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The lineup I bought and used

I bought these with my own money and used them for weeks:

  • Earth Rated Unscented Pet Wipes (green pack, flip-top lid)
  • Pogi’s Deodorizing Wipes (bamboo, green-and-white pack)
  • Burt’s Bees Dander Reducing Wipes (yellow pack)
  • Petkin Big N’ Thick Pet Wipes (white tub, fresh scent)
  • Curaseb Chlorhexidine Wipes (small jar, medicated—per my vet, only for chin acne and hot spots)

I kept one pack in the bathroom, one near the litter box, and a travel pack in the car. Yes, I am that person now.

Real moments that sold me (or didn’t)

  • The paw print parade: Miso stepped in her wet food, then tap-tap-tapped across the tile. Earth Rated unscented wiped the gravy off fast, no foam, no slime. She didn’t do the “I hate you” tail slap, which is rare.
  • Bean vs. mystery goo: Bean stuck his face in a dust bunny behind the couch. Pogi’s came out thick and damp. One wipe did face, chest, and a surprise butt smudge. It felt like a tiny towel, not a tissue.
  • The sneeze test: Petkin’s fresh scent made Bean sneeze three times in a row. He also tried to rub his face on the couch after. Smell wasn’t bad to me, but it was too much for him. As I’ve learned, cats really can come down with colds, and anything irritating their noses makes matters worse.
  • The dry swipe: Burt’s Bees felt… nice, but kinda dry. Great for a quick dust-off—like when Miso lies in a sunbeam and gets dandery—but not strong for messy jobs.
  • Chin acne drama: I used Curaseb wipes on Bean’s chin every other day for a week (vet’s tip). The bumps went down, less redness. It smells like a doctor’s office and he doesn’t love it, but it works. I always rinse with a damp cotton pad after and give a treat.

Texture, smell, and all the tiny details that matter

  • Earth Rated (unscented): Thin but sturdy. No smell. The flip-top lid clicks shut and actually stays shut. Pulls one wipe at a time. No residue. This is my daily driver.
  • Pogi’s (bamboo): Big, soft, and thick. Slight clean smell but not “perfume.” If a cat steps in poo, reach for this one. The pop-up sometimes pulls two wipes, but I’ll live.
  • Burt’s Bees (dander reducing): Gentle and light. Leaves a soft feel, not greasy. The sticky tab loses stick after a week, so I rubber band it. Good for elder cat fur and dusty backs.
  • Petkin Big N’ Thick: These are huge and juicy, but the fresh scent is not cat-approved in my house. Also, the tube pulled three wipes at once more than once. Wasteful.
  • Curaseb (medicated): Small circles, like makeup pads. It’s for problem spots only. I patch test first. If you use it, keep it away from eyes, and don’t let them lick right away.

The messes I use them for (and how I do it without drama)

  • Face gunk: I warm the wipe between my hands for 10 seconds. Quick swipe under eyes, then on the nose. Talk sweet. Offer a lickable treat after. This part matters.
  • Butt checks: Lift the tail, wipe once, toss the wipe. If it’s rough, I fold to a clean corner and go again. Never scrub. Cats remember.
  • Paws: I press the wipe around each toe like a tiny sponge. Squeeze, don’t rub. If there’s grit, Pogi’s has the grip to lift it.
  • Chin acne: Curaseb, light touch, every other day for a week, then pause. I rinse with a damp cotton pad. Treat, then a toy to reset the mood.
  • Travel cleanup: I keep Earth Rated in the glove box. Crumbs, fur, and “car yuck” on paws after the vet? Quick fix.

Things I liked (and a few that annoyed me)

What I liked:

  • No fake perfume (Earth Rated)
  • Big sheets that don’t shred (Pogi’s)
  • Gentle for senior fur (Burt’s Bees)
  • Medicated option that actually helped (Curaseb)

What bugged me:

  • Petkin scent made my cat sneeze
  • Burt’s Bees pack doesn’t stay sealed unless I baby it
  • Pogi’s sometimes pops out more than one wipe
  • Curaseb smells clinical; Bean walks away if I rush

Are they safe if cats lick?

Short answer: mine are fine with the gentle ones. I stick to alcohol-free, paraben-free, and fragrance-free or very light scent. If I use a medicated wipe, I keep the area dry for a few minutes, then distract with a treat. If your cat has open sores, I call the vet first. And I skip tea tree oil. My vet gave that a hard no.
If you’re hunting for even more vetted grooming advice, the guides at Pet Care Services dive deep into product safety and technique.

Cost and what I rebuy with my own cash

  • Earth Rated Unscented: mid-price, worth it. I rebuy the big pack with the hard lid.
  • Pogi’s Bamboo: a bit pricier, but each sheet feels like two. I buy for heavy cleanup days.
  • Burt’s Bees Dander Reducing: budget-friendly, not for messes, but nice for a quick freshen.
  • Petkin: plenty of sheets for the price, but the scent clash made it a no for us.
  • Curaseb: small jar, not cheap, but I use it only when needed. One jar lasts months.

Little tricks that saved me from chaos

  • Store packs upside down, so the top wipe stays wet.
  • Cut wipes in half for face jobs; saves money.
  • Warm the wipe in your hands first. Cats hate cold.
  • Close the lid until it clicks. If it has a sticky tab, add tape or a clip.
  • Treat during the wipe, not after. It builds good vibes.

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Quick wins by cat type (from my living room lab)

  • Senior cat with stiff joints: Burt’s Bees for gentle fur care; Earth Rated for butt and paws.
  • Messy kitten or bold explorer: Pogi’s for mud and mystery gunk; Earth Rated for daily upkeep.
  • Acne-prone chin: Curaseb as needed (vet approved), then a soft rinse pad.
  • Scent-sensitive cat: Earth Rated unscented all the way.
  • White fluff balls who shed a snowstorm: sneak a peek at life with a white Maine Coon cat for brushing hacks that pair perfectly with wipe routines.

One small story to end on

Last week, Bean came back from the vet with “stress dand

I Tried Cat Ice Cream With My Cats. Here’s What Actually Happened.

I’m Kayla, and yes, I gave my cats “ice cream.” Not my pistachio. Cat-friendly stuff. It was a hot weekend, the AC was grumpy, and I wanted a cool treat that wouldn’t upset tiny tummies. I ended up testing three kinds: frozen lickable treats, a store milk for cats turned into pops, and a homemade mix. Spoiler: one of them made my cat hum. Like, a real little hum. If you’re tempted to whip up something chilly yourself, this handy DIY cat popsicles guide walks you through the basics step-by-step.

If you want the full behind-the-scenes play-by-play, I spelled it all out in this cat ice cream diary.

Meet My Taste Test Crew

  • Milo (6) — orange, big feelings, eats first, thinks later.
  • Poppy (4) — black-and-white, shy, sniffs everything, judges me, then eats.

They’re indoor cats. They get bored. Cold treats turn into a tiny summer party. Long-haired fluffballs—think a majestic white Maine Coon—would probably enjoy the chill factor even more.

By the way, if you’ve ever browsed French cat forums and wondered why people keep saying “minou” when talking about their pets, it’s the Gallic equivalent of “kitty.” For a cheeky and candid cultural deep-dive into how that nickname shows up in everyday life, swing by ce billet plein d’humour — the author quite literally “shows her minou,” and the playful photos plus slang breakdown offer a fun mini-French lesson you can trot out the next time you’re chatting with fellow cat lovers.

What I Tried

  1. Frozen Inaba Churu
    I squeezed Churu (tuna flavor) into a silicone paw mold and a couple of ice cube trays. Froze them for three hours. I set one cube on a plate. It slid a little. Milo chirped, Poppy stared.

  2. Whiskas Cat Milk Pops
    This is lactose-reduced milk made for cats. I whisked 3 tablespoons with a teaspoon of salmon juice from a can. Poured it into a mini mold and froze it overnight.

  3. Homemade “Soft Serve”
    I blended 2 tablespoons of plain pumpkin purée with 1 Churu pouch and a splash of water. I froze it for an hour so it was slushy, not solid. I stirred it once so it didn’t turn into a brick.

You know what? I didn’t think they’d care. They cared. For even more inspiration, check out these five frozen cat treat recipes that go beyond my basic experiments.

The Winner (by a whisker)

Frozen Churu, tuna flavor. Hands down.

  • Milo licked it for seven full minutes. No breaks. Happy paws.
  • Poppy circled twice, did a tiny “brrrp,” and joined in.
  • No tummy drama later. No messy runny stools. I checked like a hawk.

The texture was perfect. It melted slow but not too slow. It smelled like… well, tuna. The cube got glossy and went a bit slushy at the edges. That’s the sweet spot for cats. It gave them “work” without frustration. Enrichment people would call this “increased engagement.” I call it quiet cats on a hot day. Bliss.

The Close Second

Whiskas Cat Milk pops with salmon juice.

Milo loved it. He licked, then nudged the cube to chase it. Poppy liked it, but she lost interest halfway. I think the smell was softer. Bonus: no lactose drama. I kept the cubes small, like thumbnail size, so it didn’t chill their mouths too much.

Little note: one cube slid under the fridge. Milo stood guard like a cop at a concert. I had to fish it out with a wooden spoon. Not my finest hour.

The Maybe-Not-For-Every-Day

Pumpkin + Churu soft serve.

This one looked cute. Like a tiny swirl. Good fiber, gentle on the gut. The cats liked the taste, but the texture was sticky when it warmed up. I had to wipe Poppy’s whiskers with a damp cloth, and she gave me That Look. It’s the “I’m being wronged” look. On days I’m feeling fancy (or lazy), I grab cat-safe grooming wipes instead of a plain cloth—no hard feelings from the feline critics. Still, great for cats who need a little tummy help.

The Miss (From a Past Try)

I once tried plain goat milk cubes. Looked fancy. My vet later reminded me: goat milk still has lactose. Guess what? Milo had soft stool the next morning. Lesson learned. Use cat milk, not regular milk.

How It Played Out Day-To-Day

Day 1: Heat wave, mid-afternoon. One Churu cube each. They licked side by side like a cartoon.
Day 2: Morning calm snack after the trash truck scare. Half a milk pop each. No crumbs. No fuss.
Day 3: I spread a smear of the soft serve on a lick mat and froze it for 20 minutes. Poppy liked the shallow grooves. It slowed her and kept her cool.

We also tried “Tiki Cat Stix” frozen on a spoon. I left the spoon in the freezer for 10 minutes first, then smeared the Stix. This turned into a “sit-and-lick” station by the window. Quiet cats. Happy me.

Little Tips That Saved Me Cleanup

  • Use a flat plate with a lip. Cubes don’t run off the edge.
  • Keep the treats tiny. Cat tongues get cold fast.
  • Let a cube sit for 60 seconds, so it softens a touch.
  • Freeze Churu in thin layers on parchment, then snap into chips. Easy share size.
  • Toss the last melty bit if it gets weird. Fresh beats funky.

Safety Stuff I Actually Followed

  • No regular ice cream. No chocolate. No xylitol.
  • I stick to fish, chicken, pumpkin, or cat milk.
  • New thing? Small test first. I watch for loose stool, vomiting, or itch.
  • If your cat has kidney or tummy issues, ask your vet first. I did that with Poppy when she had a hairball week. And if they start sneezing or sounding sniffly, remember that cats catch colds too—I learned the hard way and wrote about it here.

I also double-checked summer treat guidelines on Pet Care Services to be sure I wasn’t missing any hidden no-nos.

What Surprised Me

Milo made a soft humming sound while licking the Churu cube. He does that with roasted chicken sometimes, but never with a cold treat. It was… oddly sweet. Also, the cold treat seemed to help during fireworks. Not magic, but the licking gave them something to do besides stress.

Pros and Cons From My Kitchen Floor

Pros

  • Easy summer enrichment without heavy calories.
  • Good for slow, calm licking time.
  • Budget-friendly if you’re already a Churu family.

Cons

  • Some mixes get sticky fast. Whiskers need a wipe.
  • Cubes can slide and hide. I now block the fridge gap with a towel.
  • Smell is, um, fish-forward. Fair warning.

Final Verdict

Cat ice cream works, as long as it’s cat-safe. Frozen Churu cubes are my top pick. Whiskas Cat Milk pops come next. The pumpkin mix is nice for gentle tummy days, but a bit messy.

Would I keep a tray of “cat ice cream” in my freezer all summer? Yes. On hot afternoons, I give each cat one small cube. It buys me seven quiet minutes, and sometimes a happy hum. That’s worth it.

If you try it, start tiny, watch your cat, and let the treat soften a bit. Simple, fun, and honestly, kind of adorable. Who knew a chilly fish cube could bring so much peace?

Side note: once the cats are snoozing off their frozen treats and you’re left with a quiet house, you might be in the mood for your own grown-up adventure; exploring the local Bluffton swingers scene can introduce you to open-minded couples and singles—it offers event calendars, venue rundowns, and first-timer etiquette tips so you can see if the vibe matches your comfort level.

MiraLAX For Cats: My Honest Litter Box Story

I’m Kayla, and I’ve used MiraLAX with my cats. More than once. Different cats, different messes. Same powder. Let me explain what really happened in my home, and how it felt to live through it.

If you’d like an even deeper, vet-reviewed dive into the “how much, how often, and why” behind this laxative, you can skim my expanded guide on MiraLAX for cats for the full play-by-play.

Note: I’m not your vet. I’m just a cat mom with a scoop and a watchful eye. Please talk with your vet first, since dose and health stuff matter a lot. If you’d like even more expert-backed guidance, the constipation resources at Pet Care Services lay out treatment options in clear, vet-vetted language.

The day Mochi got stuck (and I freaked out a little)

Mochi is my fluffy tuxedo girl. Sweet as pie. She got a bit chunky last winter and stopped drinking much water. One week, her litter box visits turned weird—lots of trips, tiny dry bits, and a sad little chirp. She’d strain and stare at me like, “Mom, help.”

I called my vet. She said it sounded like mild constipation. She gave me a MiraLAX plan for Mochi based on her weight. I wrote it down on a sticky note and stuck it to the fridge, because I know myself.

For a straightforward veterinary rundown on how polyethylene glycol 3350—the active ingredient in MiraLAX—works in both dogs and cats, see this drug library entry.

You know what? I was nervous. Powder in food? Would she even notice?

How I actually gave it (real kitchen moves)

  • I mixed the clear, tasteless powder into a spoon of warm water.
  • I stirred that into a small scoop of smelly wet food (salmon wins for Mochi).
  • I served the “special dinner” first, then gave the regular meal.

She ate it like nothing happened. Shocked me, honestly.

Tiny tip: Warm food smells stronger. It helps cover the “nothing” taste, which somehow still feels like something.

The first 24–48 hours

Day one: no fireworks. Mochi seemed less tense, but still quiet.
Day two: she went. A real poop. Not huge, not scary. Just normal. I almost clapped in the hallway like a weirdo.

Her mood changed too. She did zoomies again and watched birds from the window. It’s wild how a stuck belly can steal a cat’s joy.

What didn’t go smooth

I tried a syringe once when she turned up her nose. That was a no from Mochi. She hated it, and I got fish mush on my sleeve. Lesson learned: mix with food she loves, and don’t rush.

Also, one time I gave the dose too close to her dry food binge. She got a soft stool that night. Not watery, but… let’s say I did extra litter scoops.

Round two: My senior boy, Beans

Beans is my old orange gentleman. He has early kidney stuff, so we’re careful with anything that messes with fluids. I asked the vet before even opening the bottle. She adjusted the plan for him and told me to watch water intake and energy. I added extra water to his food and set a second water bowl by the sun spot. He went on day three, slow and steady.

Different cat. Different pace. Same result: relief.

Signs I watched like a hawk

  • Straining with nothing coming out
  • Hard, dry stool (little rocks)
  • Hiding, belly touchy, or no interest in food
  • Less water drinking

If I saw vomiting, blood, pain, or zero poop after trying what my vet said, I called. No hero moves. Just the phone.

If you’re also seeing sneezes, sniffles, or watery eyes along with bathroom woes, my household has wrestled with that too—here’s what went down when my cats caught colds and how we handled it.

Little tricks that helped more than I expected

  • Water, water, water: I added a spoonful to every wet meal.
  • Warm, smelly food: salmon or tuna water (just a splash) to mask the powder.
  • Routine: same time each day made it easy to track.
  • Brushing: less hair swallowed, fewer clogs.
  • Litter check-ins: I kept one box for each cat plus one extra. Fresh litter made it easier to spot changes.
  • Quick clean-ups: a gentle swipe with the cat-safe wipes my crew actually tolerates keeps rear fur tidy so nothing mats or sticks.

If you’re hunting for even more professional pointers on preventing and treating feline constipation, this concise set of management tips for constipated cats from veterinary experts is worth bookmarking.

The stuff I liked (and the stuff I didn’t)

What I liked:

  • It truly seemed tasteless. My picky cat ate it.
  • It worked gently. No drama, no frantic sprints to the box.
  • One bottle lasted forever. Tiny scoops go a long way.
  • You can find it almost anywhere.

What bugged me:

  • If I messed up the timing with a dry food binge, stools got soft.
  • It’s easy to think “more is better.” It’s not. Follow your vet.
  • It doesn’t fix the cause—low water, hair, stress. It’s a helper, not magic.

Cost and how long it lasted

I bought a regular bottle of MiraLAX and used it here and there over months. Since cats use small amounts, it felt like a good value. I even labeled it “Cats Only” so my partner didn’t grab it for himself. We’re a classy household.

As a tiny celebration after Beans’ first normal poop, I treated him to a spoon of feline-friendly frozen dessert—you can see the messy but hilarious results in my taste-test recap of cat ice cream.

When I wouldn’t use it

  • If your cat’s in pain, crying in the box, or vomiting
  • If there’s blood, or the belly looks bloated and tight
  • If your cat hasn’t peed or hasn’t eaten in a day
  • If your cat has kidney or heart issues and your vet hasn’t okayed it

Those are vet-day signs. Don’t wait.

Final take

Side note for fellow exhausted pet parents: after an evening spent timing litter box trips, I sometimes need a totally different kind of distraction. Lately, I’ve been unwinding by browsing the casual dating platform PlanCul, which quickly connects you with like-minded singles nearby for low-pressure meet-ups—perfect when you want a little adult social excitement once the cats are finally asleep.

On nights when I’m up for something even more adventurous, I look beyond quick chats and swipe-style apps. If you’re curious about exploring a welcoming, open-minded community in Arizona, the local event roundup at Bullhead Swingers showcases upcoming parties, house-rules, and newbie advice so you can decide whether a Bullhead City gathering might be your next playful getaway.

Would I use it again with vet guidance? Yes. I already have.

If your cat’s constipated, I feel you. It’s stressful. But with the right plan, a steady hand, and a clean scoop, your little friend can get back to bird-watching and box pride. And honestly, that’s all I wanted.

—Kayla Sox

I Tried a Bunch of Cat Grooming Tools. Here’s What Actually Worked.

I live with two very different cats. So I test a lot of stuff. My couch shows it. Some weeks it looks like a fur storm rolled through. You know what? I finally found tools that helped. Not perfect. But way better.
If you want an even deeper dive into every brush, comb, and gadget I put through the wringer, check out my complete grooming gear field test.

I bought everything myself. No one paid me. I’m just a cat mom with lint rollers in every room.

Meet My Test Team

  • Miso: 13 years old, longhair ragdoll mix, sweet and slow. Gets mats behind her ears and in her armpits.
  • Bean: 3 years old, shorthaired tabby, spicy little athlete. Hates most brushes. Loves snacks more.

Spring hits, and both shed like crazy. In winter, it slows. But it never stops.


The Tools That Earned a Spot in My Drawer

Furminator deShedding Tool (Cat Size)

This one changed my living room. I have the longhair version for Miso and the short hair one for Bean. The teeth reach undercoat hair and pull it out fast.

  • What I saw: After two weeks, I was vacuuming less. I used it every other day, five to ten swipes per session.
  • Cat reaction: Bean tolerates it for 30 seconds if I give him a Churu. Miso purrs through it.
  • Quirks: Go gentle. Press too hard and you’ll scratch skin. I learned that fast on Bean’s belly. Not fun.

Hertzko Self-Cleaning Slicker Brush (Purple, Cat Size)

This is my daily brush for both cats. The bristles are fine and bend a bit. It lifts loose hair but doesn’t yank.

  • What I saw: Less frizz and fewer tiny mats. It fluffed Miso’s ruff without static.
  • Cleanup: Push the button and the hair pops off in a neat pad. Weirdly satisfying.
  • Use it on: Neck ruff, sides, tail base. I skip bellies with this one.

Kong ZoomGroom (Rubber Grooming Brush for Cats)

If your cat hates brushes, try this. It’s a soft rubber thing that feels like petting.

  • Bean’s take: He actually leans into it. He even does that slow blink like, “Okay, you’re cool.”
  • Use it: During play on the rug. It grabs hair in clumps that look like gray cotton candy.
  • Tip: Short, fast circles worked better than long strokes.

GoPets Dematting Comb (Double-Sided)

Miso gets little knot balls behind her ears. This comb saved me from the vet shave.

  • What I saw: The sharp, curved blades slice through mats if you go slow.
  • How I do it: I hold the mat at the base so it doesn’t tug skin. Then I make tiny cuts through the mat, not straight down. Slow is key.
  • Note: It makes a tiny “snip” sound. Miso didn’t care. Bean did. So I use it only on Miso.

JW Pet GripSoft Fine Comb

This is my “finish” tool. It catches tiny tangles and flea dirt if that’s a thing for you.

  • Best for: Face fur, chin, and tail tips. It’s gentle and helps me check skin.
  • Little win: I found a tiny scab behind Miso’s ear early and treated it. No mat formed there later.

HandsOn Grooming Gloves (Small)

I wanted these to be perfect. They’re good, not magic.

  • What I saw: Great on Bean’s sides and back. Hair sticks to the glove and peels off in a sheet.
  • Not great: Miso’s long fur clogs the nubs. I had to rinse the gloves often.
  • Why I keep them: Bean thinks it’s petting, not grooming. Sneaky grooming is still grooming.

Miller’s Forge Nail Clippers (Orange Handle)

I tried three brands. These felt the cleanest and least scary in my hand.

  • Cut quality: Quick, crisp cuts. No crushed nails.
  • Cat reaction: Miso doesn’t fuss. Bean pretends to die, then eats a treat and forgets.
  • Tip: I clip two nails, then walk away. I come back later for two more. No big battles.

Wahl Bravura Lithium Clippers (Borrowed from my neighbor)

For one bad mat, I had to clip. Scissors near skin made me nervous, so I tried these.

  • Good news: Quiet hum. Didn’t spook Miso.
  • Result: The mat came off clean. I used the guard and pulled the skin flat with my fingers.
  • Caution: If you aren’t sure, call a groomer. It’s easy to nick thin skin.
  • Need help finding a pro? Check out Pet Care Services for a directory of certified cat groomers near you.

Earthbath Hypo-Allergenic Grooming Wipes

Bathing a cat? Not in my house. Wipes help.

  • What I saw: Good for dander spots, dusty fur, and wiping paws after litter mishaps.
  • Scent: Light and clean. No heavy perfume. Miso didn’t lick more than usual.
  • Curious about other wipes? I stack-ranked eight different brands in this wipe showdown.

What Didn’t Work For Us (But Might For You)

  • Nail grinders (Dremel 7300): The sound and buzz were too much. Bean darted under the bed. I went back to clippers.
  • Cheap slicker from a dollar bin: Scratchy and stiff. Miso flinched. Pass.
  • Shedding blade: Great for dogs. On Bean, it felt harsh and did almost nothing.

My Simple Grooming Routine (That I Actually Stick With)

If you’re brand-new to coat care and want a refresher on brushing technique, nail trims, and how often to groom, the ASPCA’s concise set of cat grooming tips is a great starting point.

  • Monday and Thursday: Furminator, five gentle passes per cat. Treat in my mouth so they smell it and stay near. Yes, I bribe.
  • Daily: Hertzko slicker, quick touch-up while we watch TV. Two minutes, tops.
  • Weekly: JW comb for face and tail. Quick check for mats, dandruff, or bumps.
  • As needed: GoPets dematter on Miso’s ear mats. I trim the very tip of the tangle first.
  • Monthly: Nail trims in tiny sets. I sing the same dumb song every time. They relax faster now.

Little trick: I set a timer for two minutes. When it dings, we stop. Even if I want to keep going. Ending on a good note makes next time easier.


Real-World Results

  • Week 1: Less hair on my black leggings. Still a lot on the rug.
  • Week 2: Vacuuming every three days instead of daily. Miso’s neck fluff looks smooth.
  • Week 3: Bean lets me brush for a full minute without a snack. Big win.
  • Shedding season: I add one extra Furminator session. That keeps the tumbleweeds from forming.

Also, weird but true—brushing right after play helps. They’re too busy feeling proud to fight me.

Now that my couch is finally (mostly) fur-free, the living room feels surprisingly date-ready. If reclaiming your space sparks some grown-up spontaneity, you might get a kick out of exploring unexpectedly sexy places to hook up—the list dishes cheeky inspiration and practical pointers for keeping those adventurous moments fun, safe, and memorable.

If your adventures eventually carry you south to Florida and you’re curious about mingling with other open-minded couples, the local social scene outlined in this Deerfield Beach swingers guide can help you find upscale venues, learn the etiquette, and tap into real-time event calendars so you jump straight to the fun without awkward guesswork.


Little Things That Matter More Than You Think

  • Surface: Brush on a rubber mat or bath rug. Fur stays put and doesn’t fly up your nose.
  • Lighting: I face a window. I catch mats early when I can see the shadows in the fur.
  • Static: I rub my hands with a tiny bit of water, then pet once before brushing. No zaps.
  • Treat timing: I say “brush brush” in the same tone, then treat after. Now they come when they hear it.
  • For a broader overview of coat types, tool choices, and step-by-step sessions, the RSPCA’s grooming guide is worth bookmarking.

Quick Picks

  • For heavy shedding: Furminator (cat size, short or long hair).
  • For daily care: Hertzko self-cleaning slicker.
  • For mat-prone longhair: GoPets dematting comb + JW fine comb.
  • For brush haters: Kong ZoomGroom or HandsOn gloves.
  • For safe

I Tried Pet-Friendly Cabins Near Me With My Pup — Here’s What Actually Worked

I travel with my dog, Daisy. She’s a 45-pound goofball with noodle legs and a serious nose. We live near Asheville, North Carolina. So when I searched “pet friendly cabins near me,” I wasn’t just window shopping. We went. We stayed. We napped. And yeah, we tracked in some mud.

If you want the blow-by-blow version of that hunt, my step-by-step trip diary on Pet Care Services breaks down every mile, mistake, and win.

If you’re planning a similar trip, the curated database at Pet Care Services can help you find dog-friendly stops, vets, and groomers along the way.

Road trippers who map a broader loop across the Southeast sometimes veer west toward Memphis; if your itinerary—and your relationship dynamic—include a little adults-only nightlife, browsing the candid community listings for Collierville swingers will spotlight upcoming meet-ups, clubs, and etiquette tips so you can add a confident, well-planned social detour to your pet-friendly adventure.

Here’s what we loved, what bugged us a bit, and what I’d book again.


Cabin 1: Asheville Cabins of Willow Winds — woodsy, tidy, and easy

This spot sits just south of town. It feels tucked away, but you’re still near food and coffee. Our cabin was clean, warm, and simple to move through with a dog. Tile by the door helped a lot when Daisy came in with wet paws. I liked that small touch more than I thought I would.

While browsing their options, I noticed Gracie’s Willow, a one-bedroom, pet-friendly cabin on the same property that comes with its own hot tub and covered deck—perfect for a future getaway with Daisy.

  • What we liked:

    • There are short trails right on the property, so quick potty walks were a breeze.
    • The front desk had dog towels. Someone there clearly gets dogs.
    • Gas logs lit fast, and Daisy parked by the hearth like a queen.
    • No weird smells. No mystery carpet. Just fresh and neat.
  • What to know:

    • Not every unit takes pets, so you have to read the listing clear as day.
    • Pet fees add up if you stay longer than two nights.
    • Fall leaf season gets busy. I booked ahead after getting burned once.

A funny thing: Daisy chased leaves like they were tiny birds. I didn’t mind. I brought a lint roller and a small broom, and I used both. Worth it.

Staying warm inside was easy, but the trip reminded me why I built an insulated dog house for Daisy back home—two winters of testing proved it was well worth the effort.


Cabin 2: Log Cabin Motor Court — vintage and wallet-friendly

This one is old-school in a sweet way. Cute cabins. Simple rooms. You can tell families have stayed here for years. It’s close to town, so I could grab tacos and be back before Daisy finished her chew.

  • What we liked:

    • Budget friendly. No fancy fluff, but it hits the basics well.
    • Some cabins have a small porch. Daisy watched squirrels like it was TV.
    • The staff was kind and didn’t act shocked by dog hair. Thank you.
  • What to know:

    • It sits near a road. I heard traffic in the morning. Not loud-loud, just present.
    • The cabins are small. If your dog likes to zoom, plan lots of walks.
    • No hot tubs when I stayed. If that’s your thing, look elsewhere.
    • Their detailed pet policy—including the extra fee and the crate-if-alone rule—is easy to skim right here before you book.

I’ll be straight: the floors creaked a bit. Old cabins do that. Daisy perked up at every squeak the first night, then slept like a rock the second. Same, girl.

Those quick in-and-out potty breaks made me appreciate the pet door we installed in our sliding glass door back home, which I reviewed in detail for anyone considering the upgrade.


Cabin 3: Cabins of Asheville (Candler) — quiet nights, big stars

If you want space and sky, this is the one. The drive is not long from Asheville, but it feels like a nice little escape. Our cabin had a private hot tub out back, which I used after Daisy finally ran out of zooms.
Once she cooled down, Daisy tunneled into her favorite pet cave bed and snored like a tiny bear—highly recommended for dogs who love to burrow.

  • What we liked:

    • Privacy. Trees, crickets, and a chill hush at night.
    • Clean hot tub, good water level, and a cover that wasn’t a hassle.
    • Easy kitchen setup, so I could cook eggs and save money.
    • Plenty of hooks by the door for leashes and jackets. Small thing; big win.
  • What to know:

    • The driveway was a bit steep. Go slow. No need to be a hero.
    • Cell service was spotty inside. I didn’t mind, but plan for it.
    • House rules asked for crating dogs when left alone. That’s common. Bring a foldable crate.

I took Daisy on a short morning loop, and the mist sat in the trees like a blanket. You know what? Breakfast tastes better after that kind of walk. Maybe it’s just eggs. Maybe it’s the quiet.


Quick compare — so what’s the vibe?

  • Best for easy dog walks and tidy calm: Asheville Cabins of Willow Winds
  • Best for saving money and staying near town: Log Cabin Motor Court
  • Best for privacy and starry nights: Cabins of Asheville (Candler)

Little things that matter with dogs

  • Ask about pet fees. Some charge per night, others per stay.
  • Check weight limits. My 45-pound Daisy was fine, but rules vary.
  • Bring a pack: old towel, lint roller, enzyme spray, and a zip bag for treats.
  • Wipe paws at the door. Saves you time later.
  • Do a tick check after trails, even in cooler months. I do it like a routine—ear tips, toes, tail base.

For the humans, cabin comfort can matter just as much as canine comfort. If you’re a plus-size traveler who worries about tiny showers or flimsy porch chairs, you’ll find good intel in the BBW-friendly community at fucklocal.com. The site’s user reviews point you toward hosts and stays that celebrate bigger bodies, so you can spend your getaway relaxing instead of squeezing into awkward spaces.

Tiny tangent: a bakery in town gave Daisy a biscuit at the window. She now thinks every window gives snacks. I created a monster. A very happy monster.


My take — where I’d book again

If I want city eats plus dog naps by a fire, I pick Asheville Cabins of Willow Winds. If I’m feeling frugal and fast, I go Log Cabin Motor Court. For a quiet reset, I pick Cabins of Asheville and bring marshmallows.

None of these were perfect. But each one felt kind to dog folks. And that counts.

If you’re searching “pet friendly cabins near me,” start with the rules, ask about fees, and think about your dog’s style. Zoomy runner? Porch watcher? Nap pro? Match the cabin to the dog. It’s funny—when I do that, the trip gets easy. And easy feels like the whole point.

I Bought a Serval. Here’s What I Actually Paid.

I’m Kayla, and yes, I really brought home a serval. His name is Kumo. He was born in May 2022. I live outside Austin, Texas, in a spot where it’s allowed. I thought I knew the price. I didn’t. The cat was only the start.

You know what? He’s stunning. Long legs, big ears, huge leap. He also chews foam like bubble gum and can clear a six-foot fence if you blink. So, let me explain how the money side played out for me.

What I Paid Upfront

I got Kumo from a USDA-licensed breeder in Oklahoma. I drove up, met both parents, and brought him home at 12 weeks.

  • Kitten price: $7,200 (I paid a $1,000 non-refundable deposit first)
  • Ground transport (I used a driver on the way back because of the heat): $350, tip included
  • Health certificate and microchip: $155 ($95 certificate + $60 chip)
  • First vet visit and vaccines: $220
  • Neuter at 6 months: $430

If you want an even deeper, line-by-line receipt of what a serval kitten can set you back, I later documented every penny in this expanded cost guide over on PetCareServices.org.

If you’re still in the shopping phase, check out these current serval cat prices so you can see how my numbers stack up.

That’s already a real chunk of change. And I hadn’t even set up his space yet.

The Habitat Bill (It’s Not Just a Cat Tree)

Servals need room and strong fencing. Mine isn’t fancy, but it’s safe.

  • Outdoor run: 12×24 feet, 8 feet tall, chain-link panels from Tractor Supply
  • Dig guard: 24-inch hardware cloth around the base
  • Double-door entry (like an air lock), because he’s a runner
  • Shade sail, cinder blocks, big logs, and shelves

My total: $3,100 for materials and hardware; $260 for the dig guard; $220 for the double-door kit. I built it with a friend over two weekends. Texas summer is no joke, so I added a mister and a heated pad for winter: $160. Not cute. Very needed.

Inside the house, I bought a tall cat tree ($180), two floor-to-ceiling scratch posts ($90), and a heavy kennel for vet trips (Petmate Vari Kennel, $120). He still tried to sleep on my keyboard.

The Food Reality (Raw Isn’t Cheap)

Kumo eats a raw diet. Mostly ground rabbit, chicken, and sometimes quail. I order from Hare Today and a local butcher. In 2024, meat prices jumped. I felt it.

  • Monthly raw meat and supplements: $200 to $240
  • Whole prey (quail or mice) a few times a month: about $60
  • Litter and big trays (three of them): $30 per month

He doesn’t love regular cat litter. I rotated in pellet litter to cut smell. It helped. Some days, he still “missed.” Fun times.

Surprise Bills (The Ones That Sting)

Three months in, Kumo swallowed foam from a toy. He’s a shredder. The endoscopy cost $1,150. I couldn’t get real health insurance for him here; most U.S. plans don’t cover servals. I did get a small liability policy for $23 a month, in case he scratched someone. Not medical, but it gave me some peace of mind.

He also destroyed my old leather couch. It looked like a failed art project. Replacing it from Facebook Marketplace: $650. And I once lost a $1,000 pet deposit when I moved, even though I shared photos and vet letters. Some landlords see “wild cat” and stop listening.

Side note: when tax season rolled around, I tried seeing which of these pet expenses might qualify as write-offs. Spoiler—very few did, but I learned a lot in the process and shared the hard-earned lessons in this deep dive on pet tax deductions.

Travel? I hired an exotic sitter when I visited my mom. $40 per day. A seven-day trip ran $280, plus extra food prep.

The Monthly Burn Rate (My Average)

  • Food and prey: $230 to $300
  • Litter and basics: $30 to $40
  • Enrichment and toy rotation: $20 to $40 (he kills toys fast)
  • Liability policy: $23
  • Vet fund set aside: I save $75 a month, just so I’m not shocked later

On a plain month, it’s around $350 to $450. On a bad month, you’ll feel it. Staying ahead with routine check-ups makes a huge difference; another pet mom spells out exactly why in her honest take on pet wellness exams.

Texas doesn’t have a statewide ban on servals, but cities and counties can make their own rules. I live outside city limits, so I was clear. Still, I called the county office, my HOA, and an exotic vet before I paid a deposit. I’m glad I did.

For anyone navigating similar red tape, this breakdown of Texas serval ownership laws spells out exactly which permits and local ordinances might trip you up.

If you’re elsewhere:

  • Florida requires a Class II permit for servals. That means experience hours and a facility check.
  • California and New York ban them.
  • Some states allow them, but your city might not. Weird, right? It matters more than you think.

I carry copies of my paperwork in a folder. Overkill? Maybe. But it saved me stress when a neighbor asked questions.

Training and Life With a Serval

People ask, “Is he like a big house cat?” No. He’s fast and bold and loud at 2 a.m. He will bond, but on his terms. We do target training, leash work, and “station” time on a mat. He’s smart. He gets bored. Bored servals make bad choices.

A few wins:

  • Litter box use got better after I added a low, wide one in the corner he liked.
  • Puzzle feeders slowed him down.
  • A sturdy wand toy (KONG) outlasted most others, but he still shredded the feather tips.

A few fails:

  • He hates car rides. Howling the whole way.
  • He learned to open lever handles. I had to change two doors.
  • That couch. I’m still a little salty.

Side benefit: flashing a photo of life with an exotic cat turned out to be a conversation starter on dating apps, so I brushed up on best practices with this straight-to-the-point guide to optimizing a dating profile that walks you through photo selection, bio tweaks, and message openers to turn those swipes into real conversations.
And if all that online flirting has you curious about meeting open-minded, adventurous adults face-to-face—especially if you’re in California’s Central Valley—you might check out the Lodi swingers community where you’ll find vetted event calendars, private chat rooms, and first-timer etiquette guides that make dipping your toe into the scene feel a whole lot less intimidating.

So… What Did I Really Spend?

If I add my first year, it’s about:

  • $7,200 for Kumo
  • $885 for transport, vet setup, chip, first shots, and neuter
  • $3,540 for habitat and indoor gear
  • Around $3,600 for food and supplies
  • $1,150 for the emergency vet
  • Extras and damage: about $1,700

That’s near $18,000 for year one. Year two was cheaper, around $5,000 to $6,000, mostly food, vet checks, and replacing chewed stuff. Meat prices rose in 2024–2025, so the food line crept up.

Would I Do It Again?

Here’s the thing: I love this cat. He’s not a cuddle bug, but our trust is real. He touches his nose to my cheek in the morning. It’s quick and sweet. Then he bolts to the window like a deer.

But I wouldn’t suggest a serval for most people. The price isn’t just money. It’s time, space, and grit. You need thick fencing, a plan for breaks, and neighbors who won’t panic. And a solid exotic vet. They’re hard to find.
If you’re hunting for reputable exotic veterinarians or specialized boarding in your area, the directory at PetCareServices.org is a solid starting point.

If you want “serval vibes” with less chaos, look at an F1 or F2 Savannah from a serious breeder. Still pricey, still a lot, but usually easier. Or, hey, visit a sanctuary and sponsor a serval. That helps animals who need it, and

I put a pet waste station in our courtyard. Here’s the messy truth.

I love dogs. I don’t love warm surprises on my shoe. So when my neighbor, Luke, stepped in a big one right before work, I said, okay, that’s it. We’re putting in a pet waste station.

I’m the person in our townhome HOA who says, “Sure, I’ll handle it.” So I did. And yes, I used it. I stocked it. I cleaned it. I learned a lot—some good, some not so cute.

If you’d like the full play-by-play (with even more photos and cost breakdowns), hop over to the extended story on Pet Care Services.

What I bought (and why)

For our courtyard, I went with the DOGIPOT aluminum station—the green one you see at parks. It has a post, a sign, a bag box for roll bags, and a 10-gallon trash can with a lid. It came with the hardware and a little key for the lock.

  • Price I paid: a bit under $300
  • Bag type: roll bags
  • Finish: powder-coated (fancy paint on metal; it holds up well)
  • Can: steel, with a clip-on lid

Why that one? It’s sturdy. It looks tidy. And if I’m honest, the green matched our fence. Silly, but looks matter when it’s right by the mailboxes.

If you’re comparison shopping, DOGIPOT’s full line of pet waste stations shows all the components side-by-side, which helped me confirm the size and bag style I needed.

A month later, I helped our church yard add a second station from Zero Waste USA. That one uses header bags (they hang from pegs) and Mutt Mitt bags. So I’ve used both kinds now. Different spots. Different needs.

Install day: not hard, but bring snacks

We set the DOGIPOT post in concrete. Two of us, one Saturday morning. We used a 50 lb bag of Quikrete, a level, and a post hole digger we borrowed.

  • Hole depth: about 24 inches
  • Time: 1.5 hours, plus coffee breaks
  • Tip: dry-fit first, then pour

I lined the spot with a small ring of gravel so it wouldn’t get muddy. Didn’t plan that part, but it helped a lot later.

The church yard one went on an existing metal fence with u-bolts. No concrete. Fifteen minutes. I felt spoiled.

If you're looking for step-by-step guides and vetted product recommendations, check out Pet Care Services, a treasure trove of practical advice for setting up stations that actually work.

So… did folks use it?

Yes. People used it more when the bags were there and the can wasn’t gross. Seems obvious, but it’s like a coat hook by the door—if it’s in the right spot, you’ll use it without thinking.

In our 26-unit courtyard, we went from seeing three to four piles a week to one, maybe two. After rain? It climbed again, which makes sense. Wet grass hides things.

At the church yard, the Mutt Mitt bags were a hit with big dog parents. Thicker bags. You can tie them without fingers poking through. Sorry, but that matters.

The good stuff

  • The DOGIPOT lid snaps tight. Smell stayed down in summer. I checked on a 92-degree day. It wasn’t sweet, but it didn’t punch me in the face.
  • Roll bags tear clean. One hand. Easy for folks juggling a leash and a coffee.
  • The sign is friendly, not bossy. People respond to nice.
  • The Zero Waste USA header-style with Mutt Mitt feels premium. Great for big, uh, “payloads.”
  • Both locks kept teen pranks away. We had one try at yanking the lid off. No luck.

The stuff that bugged me

  • The little lock key on the DOGIPOT is tiny. I lost it once. Now I keep a spare taped inside the electric room. Learned the hard way.
  • Winter with roll bags? They stick together a bit. Gloves don’t help. I keep a dab of hand sanitizer in my pocket to get grip. Weird trick, but it works.
  • The green finish on the post faded some after a year in full sun. Not ugly, just a bit chalky.
  • Raccoons figured out the can on week two. They knocked the lid once. I added a simple bungee over the handle at night—not cute, but it stopped the party.
  • Header bags at the church yard sometimes pull two at once. Folks mean well, but waste happens.

My real numbers (I kept notes because I’m that person)

  • Households: 26 townhomes; about 14 dogs
  • Bag use: spring and summer, 600–800 bags per month; winter, ~350
  • Bag costs: roll bags ~2 cents each; Mutt Mitt header ~5 cents each
  • Trash pick-up: we add a weekly bin pull—about $12/month
  • Time to service: 10 minutes, twice a week
  • Repairs so far: one lock, $9; one set of liner bags for the can (13-gallon kitchen bags work), $12

And yes, we did have one “bag hoarder.” I taped a kind note to the sign: “Please take one for the walk.” Problem solved. People get it.

Roll bags vs. header bags: my take

  • Roll bags (DOGIPOT): fast, cheap, tear clean. They can spin in the wind a bit while you grab one, but it’s fine.
  • Header bags (Zero Waste USA + Mutt Mitt): thicker, great feel, sit still on the pegs. A tad slower to refill. More expensive.

If you have lots of big dogs or a fancy dog park, go header. If you’re an HOA watching costs, roll bags are great.

Where to put the station (the secret sauce)

Here’s the thing: location sets the tone. Too close to where kids play? You’ll get eye-rolls. Too far off the path? Folks won’t walk to it.

What worked best:

  • 10–15 steps off the main walkway, with a clear line of sight
  • Not in deep shade (wet shade = smell), not in full glare (faded paint and hot metal)
  • Gravel or pavers under the can so it doesn’t sink after rain
  • A little “thank you” note on the sign; people smile, then they bag

For super-tight footprints like narrow park strips, the slimmer DOGVALET dispenser can tuck against a fence without crowding the walkway.

Small tips I wish someone told me

  • Keep a spare key in a labeled zip bag. Label matters. Trust me.
  • Stock the bags on Thursdays. Weekends are busy for walks.
  • Double-bag in July if your trash day is late. Heat is rude.
  • Add a tiny motion light if your area is dark. People clean up more when they can see.
  • If you hear the “crinkle-crinkle” way too long, it’s usually kids playing with the dispenser. A polite “need a hand?” works wonders.
  • Dealing with a cat who’s boycotting the litter box? My painfully honest tale of using Miralax for cats might save you a late-night vet call.
  • Quick clean-ups are easier when you have wipes that actually pass the feline sniff test—here are the cat wipes my trio lets me use.

Handling communal messes like this reminded me that picking the right tool for any social situation matters—whether that’s a poop-bag dispenser or the app you use to meet people. If you’re sizing up your dating-app options, check out this detailed Bumble review to see honest pros, cons, and real screenshots that can help you decide if swiping right there is worth your time. And if you and your partner are curious about venturing beyond traditional dating into more adventurous, community-oriented meet-ups around the Triangle, the local lifestyle scene has resources, too—this Wake Forest swingers guide breaks down event etiquette, upcoming gatherings, and safety tips so newcomers can explore confidently and decide if that path fits their comfort zone.

Pros and cons, straight up

Pros:

  • Cuts yard mess fast
  • Simple to stock and clean
  • Looks tidy and signals “we care”
  • Locks keep things in place
  • Thicker bag option for big dogs

Cons:

  • Needs steady refill and trash pull
  • Paint can fade; locks can go missing
  • Winter bag grab is tricky
  • Animals will test the lid if you don’t secure it

Who should get one

  • HOAs and apartments with shared green space
  • Small parks and school fields that see a lot of dog walkers
  • Vet clinics with a patch of grass
  • Landlords who are tired of “that one corner” being gross

Final take: worth it, with a little love

A pet waste station won’t fix people. But it makes the right thing easy. That’s the

I Searched “Dog Chiropractor Near Me.” Here’s What Happened

I’m Kayla, and I’m a dog mom with a bad back. So yeah, I’m that person. I use a foam roller, and now my dog does, too—well, sort of.

Why I Went Looking

One night, I typed “dog chiropractor near me.” I felt silly. Then I booked it.

Side note: My human friends say that trawling the web for canine care still beats their late-night hunts for a no-strings-attached hookup—what French speakers cheekily call a “plan Q.” If you’ve ever been curious about how those spontaneous meet-ups work, this overview of the plan Q concept breaks down the etiquette, the dos and don’ts, and how to stay safe while having a bit of adult fun. If you happen to be in North Texas and want something a little more local than a broad “plan Q,” the community spotlighted at Addison Swingers offers location-specific event listings, venue reviews, and clear etiquette tips so newcomers can explore safely and confidently.

My Lab mix, Cooper, is 8. Big smile. Bigger zoomies. Last spring he started to limp after long walks. Stairs got slow. He’d pause at the bottom and sigh. The vet ruled out a torn ligament. We tried rest and meds. It helped, but the limp came back.

The Place Down The Street

I found a certified animal chiropractor in my part of Portland. Small office. Warm light. There was a jar of liver treats on the counter. Cooper spotted it first, of course.

The doc, Dr. Liz, asked a lot of questions. How long has he limped? Does he bunny hop? How’s his poop? (Pet folks get it.) She watched him walk in a straight line. Then in a little circle. She pressed along his spine and hips. Cooper licked her face. Classic.

The First Visit: Gentle, Not Scary

I thought I’d hear loud cracks. You know what? I didn’t. It was slow and light. She used her hands, and a small clicker tool on his mid-back. He yawned, then did that full-body shake dogs do after a bath. The doc smiled and said, “That’s a good sign.”

We did a few hip stretches. Cookie stretches, too—nose to shoulder, nose to hip. He loved that part because, well, cookies.

She told me: water, a short walk, no fetch for 48 hours. I nodded. Then went home and hid his squeaky ball like a thief.

Did It Help?

Not a miracle. But also… kind of great. Here’s what I noticed:

  • Day 1: He napped hard. Less pacing. No whining when he stood up.
  • Day 2: Limp still there, but softer. He took the stairs with less drama.
  • Week 1: His stride got longer. He did a happy trot to the door when I said “walk.”
  • Week 3: He jumped into the car again without the little “oof” sound. That felt huge.

We did four visits over five weeks. The plan was simple: adjust, reassess, add home work. Think warm-ups for an old athlete. Which he is, in his mind.

Cost, Time, and Little Surprises

  • First exam and adjustment: $95
  • Follow-ups: $70 each
  • Session length: 30–40 minutes
  • Wait time: 10–20 minutes (one time we waited longer; a nervous corgi needed extra love)

Not covered by my pet insurance. That part stung. After reading an honest take on a community vet clinic, I keep that option in my back pocket for future budget crunches.

A small surprise: I heard a tiny pop once, but it was later at home when he stretched on the rug. He looked at me like, “Did you hear that?” Then he fell asleep, belly up.

The Good Stuff vs. The Meh Stuff

The good:

  • Cooper moved smoother. Less limping after long walks.
  • He slept better. So I slept better.
  • Dr. Liz showed me simple moves I could do at home. No gear needed. Well, a few treats.

The meh:

  • It’s not a quick fix. We still do joint checks and short rest days.
  • One visit felt rushed. The clinic was slammed. I spoke up the next time, and it was better.
  • Not cheap. And again, not covered for us.

Safety Notes I Liked Hearing

This part mattered most to me. Dr. Liz wanted a vet note first. Regular preventive check-ins—like the ones covered in pet wellness exams—already taught me how valuable baseline info can be, so her caution made sense.

She checked for pain, reflexes, and nerve signs. If Cooper had sudden back pain, dragging paws, or fever, she said we’d stop and go back to the vet. No hero moves. That made me trust her.

She also had AVCA training posted on the wall. I looked it up before I went. I’m that person, remember? If you want to double-check credentials, you can browse the official AVCA “find a doctor” tool here.

Tiny Home Things That Helped

  • Warm-up: 3 minutes of slow leash walking before play.
  • Cookie stretches: nose to shoulder, nose to hip, a few reps each side.
  • Figure 8s around two cones (I used a laundry basket and a plant).
  • A bath mat on the tile for traction near the stairs.
  • A wobble cushion later on, for core work. Cooper stood on it like a surfer and looked proud.

Side note: A dab of peanut butter on the fridge door kept him steady during stretches. Messy. Worth it.

A Quick Story About My Neighbor’s Dog

My neighbor’s dachshund, Nina, had a cranky back last year. She did vet care, pain meds, then added chiro and canine PT. The chiro and the PT talked to each other. They set limits. No stairs, short potty breaks, slow gains. It took time, but Nina stopped flinching when picked up. She does tiny safe zooms now. It made me feel less alone.

How I’d Pick a Good “Near Me” Choice

  • Ask your vet for a name, and ask why they trust them.
  • Look for animal-specific training on the wall. AVCA or similar (like the IVCA).
  • First visit should be more talking and testing than adjusting.
  • They should welcome questions. Even the weird ones. I had many.
  • They should say “no” if something’s not right for your dog that day.

You can also browse the directory at Pet Care Services to see qualified practitioners in your area.

If a clinic promises a cure, I’d pass. Relief is real, but a cure is big talk.

Would I Go Again?

Yes. For Cooper, it helped. He moves easier. He smiles more. I feel less worry when we hit the trail. We do tune-ups every 6–8 weeks now, plus the home work. If he has a bad flare, we pause and call our vet first. That’s our rule.

So, if you’re typing “dog chiropractor near me” at midnight with a soft panic in your chest, hey, I’ve been there. Ask your vet. Meet the doc. Start slow. Watch your dog. They’ll tell you a lot, if you look.

And bring the good treats. Always bring the good treats.

—Kayla Sox