I decided to write some stories about the treatment of my cats by veterinarians. Some of these stories will be documented, and some, like this one, will not. For this reason, I want to say right away that I am ready to repeat everything written here under oath in court and on a lie detector.

I had a cat. His name was Chuk. He was one and a half years old. He was absolutely black, with a long, flowing, shiny coat, intelligent, agile, affectionate and playful.

On March 24, 2004, at night, after feeding the cats, I saw that Chuk was not eating and was lying separately from other cats. I felt him and found that his bladder was greatly enlarged. I decided not to wake anyone, and go to the vet in a few hours, in the morning.

At about 8 am, I picked up Chuck and took him to the Bayer veterinary clinic, where my good friend Viktor Pukov worked. After examining the cat, he said that he should immediately put a catheter in the urethra, made Chuk anesthetized and took him to the operating room. A few minutes later, Pukov left the operating room and said that it could not be worse - right on the operating table, Chuk's bladder burst. After that, he was operated on for 2 hours, and in the evening I took Chuk home. He felt so bad that I thought he was going to die, but I did not leave him, warmed him up with heating pads, gave the injections that Pukov prescribed, and he recovered from anesthesia, came to life. At first everything was fine, Chuk had an appetite, but not much, although he was always a big fan of food, and then it got worse and worse. After the catheter was removed and the drainage was removed, Chuk began to lose weight dramatically - just melt. On the evening of April 4, 2004, I took Chuck for an ultrasound and Pukov said that Chuck's kidneys were failing. A few hours later, at midnight on April 5, my Chuk died.

A few days after I buried Chuk, it turned out that during the last visit to the veterinary clinic, on the evening of April 4, Chuk was infected with cat panleukopenia and all my cats got sick. I called Pukov, with whom I had a long-standing, friendly relationship and asked him to come to me and help save the cats. I offered him good money for this help, although it was not me, but he, who was to blame for infecting my cats, but Pukov refused the money and in an absolutely drunk, impudent, arrogant voice began to tell me that I should not save my cats, but on the contrary, do not give them food and water, literally, so that the strongest survive. Shocked by this, I asked him again, but he again repeated what he had said earlier and hung up.

A few years later, a friend of mine, who worked as a forensic scientist, explained to me that a bladder rupture on the operating table cannot happen by itself, but only through the fault of the doctor, and that if this happens in medical practice with people, then the surgeon, automatically goes to jail.

That is, my friend, a good veterinarian Viktor Pukov, with whom I had been friends for almost 7 years before this incident, driven by motives unknown to me, showed deceit and changed his attitude towards me and my cats, began to kill them and mock me, smiling at me and pretending to be a friend and doing all this for the money that I paid him for the treatment ...

Although before that, in 2003, in a strange way, two cats died in me - Belka and Sima, I believe that openly, defiantly, veterinarians began to kill my cats precisely from April 2004. This continues throughout the day...

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