Bugsy was the boss cat of my neighborhood for years. I took him in when the neighbors who had been feeding him moved; he had no one else.
Bugsy took to life as a neutered cat with free food and massage on demand, but becoming “my” cat didn’t change who he was at heart: a pugilistic street cat who still tries to pick fights with one of my other cats. If he gets bored, he jumps on the computer keyboard, paws at me, or just stares until I get up and play with him.
The Western veterinarian and scientist in me sees this as the personality he developed while living on the streets. But there is another way to look at Bugsy, using a system thousands of years old that originated in a very different land than ours.
Animal constitutions
While I remain a critic of many alternative medical approaches including Chinese medicine, when I do find something that works and has at least the potential for a rational scientific basis, I delight in the discovery. One of the most fun and empirically useful of the Chinese medical techniques involves sorting patients into “biopsychotypes.”
Seeing patterns arise out of an individual’s composite biological and psychological characteristics tells a story about who they are inside and out. Often, a resonance becomes apparent between their personality, their inclinations toward certain foods, preferred climates, physical tendencies, and more.
When I learned this approach first as a human physician-acupuncturist, it was striking to watch patterns emerge in my patients based on their appearance and emotional demeanor, their medical and social histories, and their physical manifestations of health or disease.
Now that I am practicing veterinary medicine, too, I apply it not only to my furry patients, but also to the humans who care for them. I note how “types” interface in a household – do they nurture or irritate one another? Medically, it aids in my ability to anticipate medical challenges that my patients may encounter in the future; it may prompt me to probe more deeply and ask about unstated ailments based on biopsychotype expectations.
History of five phases
The ancient Chinese healers called their system the “Five Phases,” because through this philosophical framework, much of what they observed in nature as well as in medicine fell into five general categories. They developed the approach millennia ago as one of several ways to understand and predict natural phenomena.
These laws of “systematic correspondence” described how patterns in nature – the macrocosm – found parallel expressions in us, the microcosm. The simplistic yin and yang idea based on only two complementary influences gave way over time to a broader complexity based on five elements, capable of more precisely corresponding to natural processes like the seasons.
The five categories of Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water represented changes these ancient naturalists witnessed over the day, the year, and the life cycle as well as interrelationships between organs, emotions, people, and climate. The model embraces, expects, and accepts metamorphosis.
Much like the personality profiles of modern psychology, Five Phases analysis groups people and animals into constitutional categories based on psychological and physical manifestations. While not yet a scientifically validated means of determining Chinese medical treatments for humans or animals, identifying a predominant phase out of balance in an individual seems to provide clues about what a patient needs to restore homeostasis.
For example, a task-oriented metal-type dog needs a job to do, while the earth-type cat needs a warm lap.
The five elements
Wood types come across as confident and assertive; they typically excel as athletes or pioneers. They enjoy holding leadership positions and thrive in competitive environments.
When unable to direct their goal-focused energies into positive and physically challenging outlets, wood natures become corrupted. They can turn arrogant, reckless, impulsive, and aggressive. Hypertension, headaches, and heartburn can accompany pent-up muscle tension and frustration.
Wood dogs may bully others, no matter the size differential. They make themselves known through their loud and insistent barking.
Don’t get in their way of food, as wood dogs can show strong territorial possessiveness.
Wood dogs have well defined, muscular statures. They are prone to liver and gallbladder disorders, skin and ear infections, doggy odor, and bloodshot eyes.
Bugsy, my pugnacious street cat, is a wood cat. I work to assure him that there’s no need to fight with the other cats, though he needs frequent reminders. Today I caught him twice staring down my other cat, Woobie, while Woobie was trying to sleep. They’re both strong males, but Woobie’s a “water” cat (see below) who backs down and hisses in fear unless he gets pushed past his limit. Then he will fight.
When I took Bugsy in to be neutered at my friends’ practice, we discovered that his ears were teeming with tens of thousands of ear mites, the worst case they’d ever seen. He also had uveitis, an inflammatory eye condition, and his coat was greasy and matted. Bugsy was a typical wood with a hard start in life.
Fire types are charmers. They crave attention and will do whatever it takes to earn yours and win their way into your heart. They passionately plunge into life and seek emotional, physical, and mental stimulation. Their attractive and magnetic personalities make them the life of the party.
Fires can become confused or anxious; they restlessly move about even when sleeping, kicking and running as they dream. Physically, with the heart as the main fire organ, an imbalanced fire type may experience arrhythmias, palpitations, and insomnia. They overheat easily. Jack Russell Terriers often exhibit fire tendencies, performing endless tricks for applause and laughter.
Snowball, a charismatic fire cat, came into my life the day after I had a dream about a white kitten playing on a farm. I received a call from the clinic the next day asking if I had room in my house for a rescued grayish, long-haired stray cat, about two years old; it felt like destiny, and I said, “Of course.”
When I saw him, I fell in love. Once established in our household, Snowy’s zest for life filled the house. But one day, the play he ordinarily immersed himself in so completely made him pant and cough.
The subsequent workup revealed the heritable disease of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy; the cardiologist predicted that he would live another four, maybe six, months. He was a heart-breaker, this formerly neglected feline who became a big, all-white gorgeous boy.
After he was placed on medication, Snowball’s lightning-fast reflexes returned; even after his diagnosis, we were out for a walk one summer evening when he leapt into the air and caught a low-flying bat, much to my dismay.
He lasted two more years, until the dysfunctional heart formed a blood clot that left him paralyzed and purple, but still alive and fighting. Snowball yowled in pain, fighting against his impending but unavoidable departure from life for the entire car ride until I reached the clinic, driving through twenty-five minutes of heavy 5 o’clock traffic.
I used the time to prepare, but nothing readied me for the way our bond moved me physically. As life left his body after the barbiturate overdose, I felt tugged forward. Then his body dropped and he was gone.
The absence of Snowball’s fiery personality left a gap in our household that I couldn’t bear. For the first time ever, I adopted another long-haired cat that next day to fill the void; it worked, thankfully, though it’s not something I casually recommend. Such is the impact of the fire personality.
The earth type is a warm hearth that welcomes you back home.
Earths are solid and sociable, agreeable and sympathetic, attentive and relaxed.
Dubbed the “peacemaker,” earths’ diplomacy helps everyone get along. They care about what others think about them and they love being needed.
Their concern for those around them, however, might ultimately work to their own detriment. Obsessing about others can make them overprotective and overbearing. They may worry themselves sick, ingesting too many cookies for comfort, as they crave sweets and carbohydrates. Their digestive tendencies lead them to chronic diarrhea and potentially diabetes.
The yellow Lab typifies the earth dog, contentedly dreaming of Dairy Queen, watching TV with mom, and hanging out with the family.
As I’ve been writing, Frankie, my earth cat, has been nuzzling my hand, interrupting my typing. He has a plate of cat treats next to my computer mouse (that way I can refill them as needed). He’s been in my lap and off, bumping foreheads now and again, and he has become particularly clingy as I wrote the part about Snowball.
Frankie has an odd habit of eating twigs in the backyard that he later regurgitates onto my carpet.
Frankie is our ambassador. He’s the first one to meet the new rabbit and the dogs from next door. His hunger for cuddles and contact causes him to climb repairmen or other human visitors who stand still for too long. He sleeps next to me under the covers every night.
Metal types are fastidious and operate best within a structured, orderly environment. Not other-focused like an earth, metal creatures exhibit self-control and self-reliance like military or police dogs. They may even appear aloof and distant.
Metals would rather analyze a problem and solve a puzzle than lay on the couch eating cookies. They are clean, calm, and precise. Excessively perfectionist metals can become ritualistic and even obsessive-compulsive. Needing everything just so exacts a toll on one’s constitution in a world filled with uncertainty.
Metal imbalances manifest in the skin, sinuses, lungs, and large intestine. Especially during the dryness of the metal season of autumn, these individuals may experience constipation, dry skin and a dry cough, runny nose, and depression. Some cats with chronic sinusitis or asthma fall into the metal category; their skin flakes and their fur feels dry. Although metals don’t readily bond, the attachments they make are for life, and grief hits them particularly hard.
I have a stray cat who hangs around whom I suspect is a metal. He supposedly has a home, but he wanders the neighborhood, isn’t neutered, and comes around for food and warmth fairly regularly.
Because of his health unknowns, if I do let him in I keep him away from the other cats, especially because he sneezes now and then. He seems otherwise healthy except for a dry coat.
He’s a good cat, but not an attention seeker or show-off. He’s friendly, not fearful, and seems to do best with a regular schedule – when will I leave food out for him, when will I be going out with the other cats so he can come in, etc. Who wouldn’t want some predictability when left out to fend for oneself?
Water types are loners. You’ll find them off on their own, curious and introspective, more comfortable with solitude than in crowds. They prefer to sit and watch from a remote location than join in on a group activity.
When challenged, a water type responds with fear and withdrawal, if not violent outbursts. Some develop phobias.
Water cats may fear other cats, hissing and running to safety or hiding.
With the kidney and bladder representing the water organs, urinary tract disorders can befall water cats. Back pain and arthritis can afflict geriatric waters. The cold weather associated with winter, the water phase season, makes these problems worse. Water cats can exhibit chronic thirst, seeking water in the bathtub or self-serving from the toilet.
Woobie, the water cat I mentioned earlier, hisses and runs from Bugsy, the wood cat. Woobie prefers to stay by himself on the front porch where he can survey the neighborhood goings on.
When Bugsy came to live with us, Woobie began urine-marking my house; the olfactory imprint in certain locations reminds me of his displeasure.
Woobie waits for his bowl of freshly filled drinking water in the bathtub, where he feels safer from the other cats; he has at least three protected sides and a curtain. Sometimes he attempts to drink from the toilet but tends to fall in because he’s a bit heavy. He has arthritis in his back and elbows.
This past summer he developed chylothorax, a buildup of fluid in his lungs, which required a multi-step, highly invasive surgery. Fortunately, my special boy has made a full recovery.
A Family Affair
In addition to evaluating an individual patient’s constitution, complexity enters the equation in terms of the Five Phases dynamics between family members. Who’s the boss? Who’s needy? Who’s withdrawn?
When conflicts arise between individuals, is it because one “type” doesn’t mix well with the other?
Is the human companion a metal who insists on order while the fire bird, dog, or ferret desperately wants attention and will act out in whatever way necessary to get it? Is the earth dog or rabbit starving for intimacy and support from a water caregiver lost in isolation?
When we understand those around us, we can better see why we choose to bring certain mates or animal friends into our lives, and why some match-ups don’t work.
Suddenly, my brother and I (we’re best friends, with different houses, some merged finances) have more vehicles than we need. He has a convertible, currently blanketed and tucked in gently at our mother’s garage until summer. He’s driving a used pick ‘em up truck. I’m driving a used pick ‘em up truck. And I additionally currently own not one but two minivans: The ‘97 Toyota Previa I recently bought from my neighbor Judy, which came fully equipped with Varikennel 500s, and my ‘98 Plymouth Voyager (pictured, with its Bark magazine sticker showing, forgot to mention that one), which is on the way off the used-car lot that my home has become.
This morning one of the pet-insurance companies — not the one that advertises here, please note– sent out a fear-mongering bulletin on Canine Influenza that was really little more than a sales pitch to sign up for insurance.
