Purrth Mobile Cat Vet

07/02/2026

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The Netherlands, the Sphynx Cat & Welfare: A Difficult but Important Debate

Many of you will have seen the headlines stating that from January 2026, the Netherlands will prohibit the keeping of hairless cats and cats with folded ears, including breeds such as the Sphynx.

When we shared the news we highlighted some reasons why the decision had been made, historic literature base on the health and welfare of the breed, the limitations of the literature (small sample size, young deaths skewing life table data etc.) and what this meant next, the response was vast; people in agreement and support of the ban and unsurprisingly, this has caused significant upset and anger, particularly among owners, breeders, and those who deeply love and advocate for these cats. Sadly, for many, constructive conversation was not possible as the response generated such an emotive response.

So, we looked into this in a little more depth with Vet Help Direct, aiming to understand why this decision has been taken, what the evidence does (and doesn’t) tell us, and why this is such an emotionally charged issue. This is an extensive conversation and it would not be possible to cover it in depth in one article - but we have tried to cover the basics.

What has the Dutch government said?

The Dutch position is rooted in animal welfare law. They argue that certain physical traits—such as lack of coat, whiskers, or normal cartilage—are the result of selective breeding and can lead to avoidable suffering. For hairless cats, concerns cited include:

➡Increased risk of skin disease, sunburn, and skin cancer
➡Higher prevalence of yeast infections
➡Ear health issues
➡Difficulties with thermoregulation (especially in kittens)
➡The absence of whiskers and tactile hairs affecting behaviour and security

Existing cats can remain with their owners, but no new hairless or folded-ear cats may be acquired, bred, or shown.

Why are so many people upset?

Because many responsible Sphynx breeders and owners work incredibly hard to care for their cats:

➡Health testing (including HCM screening)
➡Thoughtful breeding and outcrossing programmes
➡Close veterinary involvement
➡Careful management of skin, temperature, and environment

For these individuals, the ban feels unfair and heavy handed, particularly when compared with other breeds that also have well-recognised welfare challenges. There is also genuine concern that this legislation fails to distinguish between 'responsible breeding' and the far larger problem of unregulated, low-welfare breeding.

What does the science say?

The truth is: it’s complicated.

There is evidence of increased risks in Sphynx cats—such as hereditary myopathy, skin disease, and shorter reported life expectancy in some datasets—but:

➡Many studies involve small sample sizes
➡Some outcomes may be skewed by early deaths (the life table study) or limited data
➡More large-scale, long-term research is needed

Health testing and good husbandry can reduce risks, but they cannot fully remove issues linked to the physical traits themselves. This is the crux of the ethical debate.

Why take such a hard line?

One interpretation is that this approach (to outright ban them) aims to close long-standing loopholes in animal welfare law. While legislation already exists in some countries to prevent breeding that harms welfare, it is often unenforceable, or vastly unfollowed. In reality, most cats are bred outside formal, regulated systems, and consumer demand continues to drive low-welfare breeding.

From this perspective, the Dutch government appears to be prioritising population-level prevention, even if that comes at a significant emotional cost to dedicated breed advocates.

Where do we go from here?

This conversation matters—and it needs to be:

✅Evidence-based
✅Compassionate
✅Focused on welfare, not blame

It is possible to acknowledge the love people have for these cats and still question whether certain traits should continue to be intentionally bred. It’s also important to recognise that we may not see the full effects of such legislation—positive or negative—for many years.

The Dutch government has acknowledged the emotional impact, stating that while this affects cat lovers, human preference should not outweigh permanent animal suffering.

There are no easy answers here. But respectful, informed dialogue is the only way forward—for the sake of animals, owners, and the future of companion animal welfare.

Read more below where we cover this in a little more detail, and highlight the evidence, and where the evidence has its limitations.

https://vethelpdirect.com/vetblog/2026/02/04/so-the-netherlands-have-banned-the-sphynx-cat-what-does-the-evidence-say/

Just a gentle reminder to please read the post and linked article in full before commenting. When engaging in the discussion, we ask that comments remain polite, respectful, and balanced.

This is a complex and emotionally charged topic, and while differing views are expected, this space is not intended for hostility or personal attacks. Veterinary Voices UK did not play any role in the Netherlands decision-making process and has not “banned” any breed.

Our aim in sharing this is to encourage informed, evidence-based discussion around animal welfare and policy, sharing both sides of the discussion and acknowledging both 'for' and 'against' views. Thank you for helping to keep the conversation constructive and respectful for everyone involved.

26/01/2026

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23/12/2025

Every Wednesday at 4 p.m., I help end the lives of animals no one else wants. Today, there’s an orange cat on my list—with a child’s note taped to his box.

My name is Dr. Grace Miller. I’m a veterinarian at a crowded county shelter in a small American town most people notice only when dropping off something—old couches, old habits, old pets. Around here, love has a waiting room. Budget cuts have a fast lane.

Wednesdays are euthanasia days.

We don’t call it that. We say “making space.” We say “ending suffering.” We say all the phrases you repeat to sleep at night after checking a box next to a living creature’s name.

Pumpkin arrived on a Tuesday in a beat-up cardboard box, left in the shelter parking lot just before closing. Cold enough that my breath hung in the air when I opened it.

He was curled in the corner, orange fur dull and patchy, breathing shallow and fast. Thin as a clothes hanger. His cloudy eyes blinked up at me like he was apologizing for being here at all.

Taped to the inside of the box was a folded piece of notebook paper. I recognized the wobble of the letters before I even read them:

“His name is Pumpkin. Please love him. Mom can’t keep him anymore.”

The “m” in Mom was huge and dark, pressed harder than any other word.

We scanned him for a microchip. Nothing. I listened to his chest: heart murmur, advanced. Teeth bad. Every note I typed in his chart felt like another nail in the coffin: older, sick, expensive, low adoption chance.

By morning, Pumpkin’s name was on the four o’clock list.

“You know how it is,” my supervisor said, standing over my shoulder, pointing at the intake numbers on the whiteboard. “Eighteen from that hoarding case. No luxury for long shots, Grace.”

Luxury.

Three years ago, I sat in a hospital room while a doctor explained percentages. Survival odds. Treatment options. Costs. My son, Ethan, slept through most of it, his small hand clutching the tail of a stuffed orange cat.

Back then, I wanted to scream: my child is not a percentage.

Now, I look at Pumpkin’s chart and see only numbers.

All morning, I avoid his kennel. Still, he drags himself up whenever I pass, pressing his nose to the bars, letting out a rusty, hopeful meow. He smells like shelter disinfectant and something sweeter underneath—old blankets, the ghost of a home.

At 3:55, he’s on the exam table, wrapped in a soft towel. His eyes track my every movement as I draw up the clear liquid. He doesn’t know what it means. Maybe he thinks it’s medicine. Maybe he thinks I’m here to help.

My hands are steady. My heart isn’t.

“You okay, Doc?” my tech asks quietly.

“I’m fine,” I lie. Hoarse.

Pumpkin reaches one bony paw out of the towel and lays it on my wrist. Rough, warm pads. He blinks slowly—the way cats do when they trust you.

And suddenly I see Ethan, eight years old again, lying on the living room floor with our old cat Leo asleep on his chest. “We’re a team,” he said once. “He needs me, and I need him. That’s how it works, Mom.”

“I became a vet to save lives,” I whisper under my breath. “Not to clear cages.”

The syringe suddenly feels heavy.

My tech waits. Fluorescent lights hum. Down the hallway, a dog howls, long and low, like it knows what time it is.

I set the syringe down.

“Grace?”

“I’m taking him,” I say, surprising both of us.

“You… you’re what?”

“I’m adopting him. Foster, hospice, whatever makes the paperwork work. He’s not a number today.”

There are forms to sign, awkward conversations with my supervisor, reminders that “you can’t do this for every animal, you know.”

“I know,” I say. And I do. That’s what hurts the most.

That night, Pumpkin sleeps on my faded couch, head resting on a blanket faintly scented with the laundry detergent I used when Ethan was alive. When he dreams, his paws twitch like he’s running somewhere younger, somewhere easier.

I sit on the floor beside him and listen to his heart through my stethoscope. Irregular, fragile, stubbornly beating anyway.

I think about all the animals whose names I’ve crossed off lists. I think about all the people—the ones who leave notes in shaky adult handwriting or messy kid scrawl, begging the world to be kinder than their circumstances.

Maybe I can’t fix the system. Maybe I can’t save them all.

But tonight, an old orange cat is warm, fed, loved. Tonight, my apartment isn’t quiet. Tonight, I choose to stand between one small life and the cold math of not enough.

The world will always have more need than we can meet. But sometimes, saving one doesn’t just rescue the animal on your couch.

Sometimes, it rescues the part of you that still believes one life is never “just a number.”

23/12/2025

16/12/2025

So what's been happening behind the scenes?

Some of my friends will know that for the past 2 years I have been studying a 2 year postgraduate course in Feline Medicine.

It was hard for me, working 3 long days a week in clinic, attending to a local wildlife centre and doing some mobile vet work.

But I have completed the course with fabulous grades (makes me happy).

I was intending to then go on to doing my Membership exams but have decided enough is enough. I won't get paid any more, and am not prepared to move overseas to become a specialist...I am 57. Nope.

So a semi celebration for my achievement. I hope I can still be an amazing vet for the cats I am lucky to treat.

16/12/2025

Scientists now see outdoor cats as one of the world’s biggest wildlife threats.

In the U.S. alone, free-ranging cats kill an estimated 1–4 billion birds and 6–22 billion mammals each year — far more than collisions with windows or cars.

Globally, cats have caused or contributed to over 60 extinctions, especially on islands. Conservation experts now call them an invasive predator and urge people to keep cats indoors and manage feral populations — to protect both wildlife and the cats themselves.

06/12/2025

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28/11/2025

Breeding Cattery Certification and Accreditation
Contact me if you would like to know more.

26/11/2025

What's the difference between live and inactive vaccines?

Quick Answer: Live (modified live) cat vaccines use weakened pathogens to trigger strong, lasting immunity, while inactivated (killed) vaccines use non-living organisms and are safer but often less potent. Humoral immunity relies on B cells producing antibodies to neutralize pathogens, whereas cell-mediated immunity depends on T cells directly attacking infected cells.

🐱 Differences Between Live and Inactivated Cat Vaccines

• Live (Modified Live) Vaccines

o Contain weakened but living pathogens.
o Stimulate a strong, long-lasting immune response.
o Often require fewer booster doses.
o Can sometimes cause mild symptoms in immunocompromised cats.
o Examples: Modified live vaccines for feline herpesvirus and calicivirus.

• Inactivated (Killed) Vaccines

o Contain pathogens that have been killed or inactivated.
o Safer for cats with weakened immune systems.
o Typically require adjuvants (immune-boosting additives).
o May need more frequent boosters to maintain protection.
o Examples: Rabies vaccines are usually inactivated.

Key takeaway: Live vaccines tend to be more effective at stimulating immunity but carry slightly higher risks, while inactivated vaccines are safer but may require more frequent administration. Adjuvants are more likely to cause vaccine reactions.

🛡️

🎯 Why This Matters for Cat Health

• Vaccines and Immunity: Live vaccines often stimulate both humoral and cell-mediated immunity, giving broader protection. Inactivated vaccines mainly boost humoral immunity, which is effective but sometimes less comprehensive.
• Practical Implication: Veterinarians choose vaccine types based on a cat’s age, health status, and risk factors. For example, kittens may benefit from strong live vaccines, while older or immunocompromised cats may be safer with inactivated ones.