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Is dieffenbachia toxic to cats ? - A few months ago, a good friend of mine came back from a safari with his family. He brought home a big bag of plant species, both poisonous and not. My friend is an enthusiast for home grown veggies, herbs and fruits. He also has a passion for plants with good scents.
In our discussion, I discovered he had a problem that was very dangerous, I'll say to you, it killed all of his plants (he's very particular about the smell of his house, and loves plants with good scents) And he's very very careful when using the plant because he says it is easy to go a bit too far.
There's a plant that we'll call "A" (doubt it has another name, a species of the genus Dieffenbachia. I don't know if this name is more widely used or it is more proper that way. My friend's wife is called Dieffenbachia after this plant and I can relate very much to this woman. She has a strong passion for the plant, which was born from one of his safari trips.
Now here's the problem, my friend's wife is allergic to this plant, even if she goes to the doctor, she always says she's allergic, she's sure of it, so my friend is not really taking risks.
I'll start by telling you that I'm a cat lover and have two. In two days, I had my two cats killed.
The first, I can say that I've been poisoned by this plant. We had a large dieffenbachia on our property (not a house, we just rent, in a quiet area of the suburbs, not big, about 12 m²). A few weeks ago, I noticed my cat (a black cat) was very sick (it couldn't eat, seemed extremely tired, it had difficulty moving, his breath smelled of smoke and we couldn't find his vomit in the house. When I discovered the cause, I was very happy, he had eaten a pot of this plant, which contned poison, very quickly he had a very bad reaction and almost immediately he died.
The second, I can't be sure of the reason, a few months ago, I noticed that my cat began to be more active and to show symptoms, he seemed exhausted and didn't want to eat. My wife decided to call the vet, and he told us that my cat had kidney problems, he was going to die. Then I decided to ask the vet if it was possible for my cat to be poisoned by this plant, he told me that it could have been that the cat had eaten the leaves of a plant in which they have died (I had no plants on my property that could cause that, the vet thought that my cat could have eaten seeds), the vet tried to give him a tranquilizer, but he died.
When the vet called me, he asked me how many cats I had, how many cats I had, how many cats I had, if it was a female cat, if she had male cats, if she was pregnant, if she was lactating, how old was she, was she born in captivity or was it a stray cat, and many other questions, all of which I could not answer. For me it was like a game, because I wanted to know what the cat looked like, the vet would tell me and I had to answer truthfully. I would reply that I had a black cat, that she was a stray cat, was pregnant, lactating, that she was about 8 years old. We kept playing this game of 'telephone' while the vet sd all the questions and I sd all the lies. It was like this the whole time.
When he told me that I could find my cat dead on the floor, I thought that it was a strange death (for how could a cat just lay there?) so I thought to myself, that the cat was dead, but I would not believe it. I ran to my apartment and when I came back, there was my cat. She was dead. She had taken my baby, my daughter’s name was Roselia, so that I could say that I did not know anything about the cat. I had not seen her in months, she must have climbed through a small window.
How did I bury my cat?
That was not a small secret, a cat had died and I had not seen it for months, so how could I bury it? How could I tell anyone that I buried a cat? If I told anyone that I had buried my cat, what would they think? I could not tell a soul. I had to do everything in secret.
I buried my cat in a secret spot that only I knew, a place that I could find without trouble. I buried her because she was dead, but I needed to live for a while. I could not keep the cat’s body, because I knew that it would scare her friends, and she would not return for her body.
How did I keep my secret buried?
That was a large secret, a cat died, but who knew? I could not tell a soul, because if I did, my secret would be found. My daughter had asked me if I thought that she was crazy, I sd no, because no one else knew about my cat. I was the only one that knew about the secret, the rest of them did not know about the secret.
I had to go to work, and I had to be someone else, and it was a lie.
I had to go to work, and I had to be someone else, and it was a lie. When I was in the office and everyone was going about their jobs, I thought about my cat and how I had to go to work because it was not real. I could not stop crying. I would cry all the time when I would think about my cat.
I could not believe that she was gone.
I would not believe that she was dead. I would cry for hours in my car when I drove to work, and I would cry when I returned home from work. It was hard to live with the guilt of what I had done, because I felt like I had killed a friend.
I did not think about the cat when I was at work, I was just there, and I was someone else. If I thought about my cat too much, I would not be able to go on, and if I did not think about her, I would be in pn all day. It was a lonely existence.
My cat was dead.
I cried for months, and I did not want to live. I did not want to get up and face the day, but there was no choice. I did not want to eat or drink, or do anything with my body because my cat was dead. I thought that it was better for her to die than for me to live with the guilt.
The guilt was worse than her death. I did not want to eat or drink, or do anything with my body because my cat was dead. I thought that it was better for her to die than for me to live with the guilt. I did not want to get up and face the day, but there was no choice. I did not want to eat or drink, or do anything with my body because my cat was dead. I thought that it was better for her to die than for me to live with the guilt. I cried for months, and I did not want to live. I did not want to get up and face the day, but there was no choice. I did not want to eat