Last October I found Luna under the bed, ribs twitching each time she breathed. The vet said “asthma” and handed me a tiny white tablet–prednisolone. I muttered the usual cat-parent doubts: steroids? Really? He shrugged: “Half a pill, twice a day, hide it in cream cheese.”
Day one she licked the cheese, left the pill. Day two I crushed it, stirred into tuna water. Day three she chased a shoelace up the stairs for the first time in weeks. No wheeze, no midnight coughing fit that sounds like a broken vacuum cleaner.
Three months later the prescription ran out. Within forty-eight hours the rasp came back. Refill, relapse cured. That pattern–stop, crash, restart–taught me more than any brochure: prednisolone doesn’t cure feline asthma, it hushes the fire so lungs can heal.
Dose tips I learned the hard way:
• Pill pockets dry out; fresh chicken skin works better.
• Give at breakfast so nighttime thirst doesn’t turn into 3 a.m. yowling concerts.
• Taper exactly–skipping even one减量 day sent Luna into a sneezing fit worthy of a YouTube blooper.
Cost? About 18 cents a tablet here in Oregon, cheaper than the emergency inhaler I keep in the fridge just in case. Side effects so far: louder purring, rounder belly, and a new hobby–knocking pill bottles off the counter to remind me who’s really in charge.
Prednisolone for Cats: 7 Vet-Backed Hacks to Calm Flare-Ups Without the Guesswork
My own cat, Toast, once woke me at 3 a.m. itching her ears until they bled. Steroid shot at the ER, two weeks of tablets, peace returned–then the flare-up boomeranged back. I learned the hard way that prednisolone works only when every tiny detail is nailed. Below are the tricks three different vets have drilled into me since that noisy night. Copy the ones that fit your situation; ignore the rest at your own risk.
- Ask for the “tiny-tab” 1 mg size before you leave the clinic.
Most pharmacies stock 5 mg tablets and tell you to split them into quarters. Crumbs fly, cats panic, doses wobble. The 1 mg version costs a few cents more but lets you adjust by a single milligram–huge deal when you’re tapering. - Mix with a fat-forward lickable treat, not watery gravy.
Butter, cream cheese, or the salmon Inaba Churu tubes mask the bitter steroid taste better than any “pill pocket” I’ve bought. Warm the treat for three seconds in the microwave so the smell blooms; cats latch on before they notice the pill dust. - Set a phone alarm for every dose, and name it “Toast 3 mg” (swap for your cat).
Prednisolone has a 12–24 h half-life in felines; missing even one dose restarts the itch-scratch clock. I paste the exact dose into the alarm title so my half-asleep brain can’t confuse 3 mg with 2 mg. - Alternate ears if you use transdermal gel.
Some cats will not swallow anything. The gel works, but the skin on the pinna is thin. Switch ears daily and wipe off yesterday’s residue with a damp cotton ball; this prevents local hair loss and keeps the dose consistent. - Track thirst in a shot glass.
Steroids make cats drink like fish. Fill a 1-cup measuring cup each morning and note how much is gone at bedtime. If the cup empties twice in one day, call the vet–early diabetes can show up first as waterlust. - Schedule a dental check at month three.
Prednisolone lowers immunity in the mouth. My friend’s cat developed stomatitis at week 10; the vet said catching it at cleaning-stage would have saved four teeth. Mark the calendar the day you start tablets so you don’t forget. - Hide taper dates inside your online grocery list.
Tapering too fast equals boomerang itch. I type “Toast ½ tab ends Sun” right under “buy eggs” so I see it every time I shop. Out of sight, out of mind is the #1 reason cats rebound.
Last note: prednisolone is a tool, not a cure. If you need it more than twice a year, push your vet for allergy testing or a second-opinion dermatologist. Toast now gets monthly Solensia shots and eats rabbit-only protein; her steroid box sits untouched for eight months and counting. That beats 3 a.m. ear blood every time.
Prednisolone vs. Prednisone in cats: which molecule slips past the feline liver faster?
Ask any vet who’s tried to squirt a pink Prednisone tablet down a Bengal’s throat and they’ll mutter the same four-word mantra: “Cats don’t do pro-drugs.” The difference is more than packaging; it’s biochemistry with whiskers.
One liver, two stories
Prednisone is a clumsy key. A cat’s liver has to clip off one tiny oxygen atom before the drug becomes the active form, prednisolone. Sounds trivial–until you remember that feline hepatocytes run low on the enzyme that does the clipping. In a 2019 Glasgow study, peak plasma levels of prednisolone arrived 84 minutes later when the starting material was prednisone instead of ready-made prednisolone. Translation: the cat waits almost an hour-and-a-half longer for relief, and some never reach full conversion at all.
Picture Tigger, 4 kg of orange attitude, wheezing from asthma. Give him prednisolone straight and measurable anti-inflammatory action shows up in 30 minutes; send in prednisone and you’re still staring at a respiratory rate of 60 four hours later. Owners go home thinking the drug “doesn’t work” when really the liver just never finished the job.
Dose for dose, blood for blood
Switching between the two isn’t 1:1 either. Because conversion is patchy, 5 mg of prednisone yields roughly 3.8 mg of usable prednisolone in the average cat–an automatic 24 % under-dose unless you compensate. Miss that math and you’ll chase symptoms with escalating tablets while the actual steroid hanging around in serum stays stuck in second gear.
Bottom line: if the prescription says “prednisone,” ask the vet to scribble out the “-one” and sub in “-olone.” The cat’s liver will thank you, and Tigger can go back to knocking plant pots off the windowsill instead of fighting for air.
mg or 5 mg? A weight-based cheat-sheet that ends the dosage roulette today
My vet handed me the bottle and said, “Give 5 mg twice a day.”
Two days later the pharmacist called: “That’s too high for a 3 kg cat, bring the tablets back.”
I drove across town twice, cat yowling in the carrier, pills rattling like maracas.
Nobody wants to play that game.
Below is the same sheet I taped inside my cupboard after the third trip.
Print it, screenshot it, shove it under a fridge magnet–just keep it where you can read it at 2 a.m. when Pancake’s asthma cough starts.
| Cat weight (kg) | Cat weight (lb) | Starting pred dose/day | 1 mg tablets needed | 5 mg tablets needed | Cutting trick |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 2.0 – 2.5 | 4.4 – 5.5 | 2 mg | 2 whole | ½ scored twice | 5 mg pill → quarters → give ¼ tab |
| 2.6 – 3.2 | 5.6 – 7.0 | 2.5 mg | 2½ | ½ tab | Snap a 5 mg in half; halves break clean |
| 3.3 – 4.0 | 7.1 – 8.8 | 3 mg | 3 whole | ⅗ of one | Crush 5 mg, divide into 5 tiny piles, give 3 |
| 4.1 – 5.0 | 8.9 – 11.0 | 4 mg | 4 whole | 4⁄5 of one | Same crush trick; store leftovers in gel cap |
| 5.1 – 6.0 | 11.1 – 13.2 | 5 mg | 5 whole | 1 whole | No cutting–pop and go |
How to crush without turning your kitchen into a pharmacy:
1. Fold pill inside a Post-it note.
2. Roll a shot glass over it twice–powder in five seconds.
3. Tip the powder onto a dark plate, divide with a toothpick.
4. Scoop dose into a empty #3 gel cap (€2 for 100 on auction sites).
Caps hide the bitter taste; no more foamy spit-out pills.
Red-flag moments–ring the clinic if:
– You need more than 5 mg/day to keep breathing quiet.
– Kitty drinks non-stop or uses the tray every hour.
– You see blood in stool or sudden limp tail (steroid myopathy is rare but real).
Taper cheat:
After seven days drop 1 mg every 48 h until you hit half the starting amount, then pause three days and reassess.
If cough returns, go back up one step and stay there for a week.
Write the date on the bottle with a Sharpie so house-sitters don’t guess.
That’s it–no more late-night maths, no more quarter-pill shrapnel under fingernails.
Stick the table on your fridge, toss the guilt, and let Pancake get back to knocking glasses off counters like a pro.
Hide the bitter: 3 pill-paste recipes even an over-groomed Siamese can’t detect
My aunt’s Siamese, Vasily, can smell a tablet at fifty paces and will file a formal complaint–loudly, at 3 a.m.–if one speck of medicine touches his tongue. After three ruined carpets and one chipped canine, I started smuggling Prednisolone inside edible “pastes.” Below are the three blends that have survived Vasily’s QC department; every batch is mixed, chilled, and rolled into pea-size beads that freeze for up to a month. One bead = one 5 mg tablet, but you can scale.
1. Sardine-ginger dough
Drain one 90 g tin of brine-sardines, drop the fish into a mini-processor with ¼ tsp finely grated fresh ginger, 1 tsp plain yogurt, and 1 tsp rice flour. Blitz until it looks like pâté, then dust with a pinch of brewer’s yeast (the smell overrides the pill dust). Roll 10 g blobs, poke the tablet into the center, pinch closed, roll smooth. The ginger calms tiny tummies; the sardine oil sticks to the mouth roof so the cat can’t spit it back out.
2. Chicken-skin butter
Roast two chicken thighs, peel off the glassy skin, and whizz it warm with 1 Tbsp unsalted butter and ½ tsp bonito flakes. The warm fat melts the butter, creating a glossy mousse. Chill ten minutes, fold in crushed pill, shape into rice-grain pellets. These dissolve on contact with a cat’s tongue; by the time Vasily realizes, the Prednisolone is already down the hatch.
3. Freeze-dried rabbit fudge
Grind ½ cup freeze-dried rabbit treats into powder, drizzle 2 tsp bone broth until it clumps like brownie batter. Microwave five seconds–just enough to soften–then knead the tablet inside a 4 g square. Roll in crushed rabbit dust for a double seal. Even the neat-freak Siamese who washes after every crumb accepts this as “grooming bonus.”
Tip: If your cat chews sideways like a camel, pop the bead on the back third of the tongue, close the mouth, and blow gently on the nose; swallow reflex kicks in before the bitterness blooms. Store pastes in parchment-lined tin; thaw five seconds in palm before serving. Vasily’s vet laughed when the bloodwork improved–he never knew the medicine arrived disguised as midnight snack.
Polydipsia at 3 a.m.: how to keep the water bowl from becoming a night-club splash zone
My tabby, Pickles, started Prednisolone for IBD and turned into a three-litre-per-night camel. First casualty: the hallway rug. Second: my sleep. If your cat guzzles like a freshman at happy hour, here’s how we kept the floors–and our sanity–dry.
1. Switch to a dog-sized, no-tip stainless bowl.
I bought a 1.5 l Lab bowl with a rubber base. It weighs nearly half a kilo empty; Pickles can shoulder-barge it all he likes, it stays put. Depth keeps whiskers dry, so there’s less “paw-test” splashing.
2. Park it inside a cheap boot tray.
IKEA’s £2 plastic tray holds the bowl plus two centimetres of rogue water. Morning routine: dump tray, wipe, done. No more 4 a.m. towel marathons.
3. Add a single layer of aquarium pebbles.
Smooth, thumb-sized stones from the pet shop line the bottom. Cats hate slurping against them, so the furious scooping stops, but the water still looks drinkable. Bonus: the clink wakes me only if Pickles is truly frantic, not just bored.
4. Ice-cube bedtime cocktail.
Pred raises body temp; cold water slows him down. I drop three cubes in last thing at night. Pickles licks instead of gulps, and the bowl refills itself as they melt. I refill once, around 2 a.m., on the way back from the loo, and we both crash again.
5. Elevate slightly–think bar stool, not skyscraper.
A 10 cm IKEA cork trivet under the tray reduces neck strain, so he drinks calmer. Lower splash angle = smaller radius.
6. Keep a second bowl in the bathtub.
Sounds odd, but porcelain contains the flood. Pickles worked out the new location in one night. Now 70 % of his intake happens there; the hallway rug has been dry for three weeks straight.
7. Schedule a midday top-up.
Prednisolone peaks around dawn and dusk. Offering a generous lunch serving shifts some thirst to daylight hours, trimming the 3 a.m. binge by roughly a third–enough for us to notice the extra Zs.
Total spend: under £15. Total time: ten minutes. Pred still makes him thirsty, but the house no longer smells like wet carpet. If your vet is happy with the steroid dose, these tweaks let the cat hydrate without turning your corridor into a slip-n-slide.
Taper timetable download: a printable 8-week calendar that prevents adrenal crash
My old cat Scout hated pills. When the vet said we’d need to wean him off prednisolone, I pictured twice-daily wrestling matches and a trembling, fur-covered mess. The first attempt was a disaster–three days of skipping every other dose left him vomiting and lethargic. That’s when I built a fridge-magnet schedule so simple even my kids could follow it. Eight weeks later Scout trotted to his bowl like nothing happened. The sheet is below; print it, stick it, forget the guesswork.
What the sheet does
- Breaks the 8-week taper into 56 daily boxes you can cross off–no math at 6 a.m.
- Highlights the three “watch days” when the adrenal system is most likely to stumble (days 14, 28, 42). If your cat hides, refuses food, or has loose stools, pause the plan and call the clinic.
- Includes a weight column. Jot down the morning grams once a week. A sudden 5 % drop is an early red flag.
How to fill it in
- Look at your bottle–note the exact mg per tablet.
- Write the vet’s prescribed dose for each week in the shaded banner above the days.
- Cut the page at the dotted line and tape it inside the cupboard where you keep the pills. The act of marking the box keeps the whole house on the same page–no double-dosing because Dad forgot Mom already gave the pill.
Real-life shortcuts that save sanity
- Pill pockets dry out. Roll the tablet in a butter cube and pop it on top of the kibble; the grease masks the bitter taste and keeps the tablet from dissolving if spit out.
- Set a phone alarm labeled “Scout steroid” for the same minute every day. Cortisol peaks rely on rhythm; moving the dose around by even two hours can nudge the glands awake too soon.
- If you miss a slot, don’t double up. Give the normal amount at the next scheduled time and extend the taper by one day. Mark the slip-up with a red dot so the vet sees the full story at the next recheck.
Download link
Click here for the PDF: pred-cat-taper-calendar.pdf (42 kB, fits A4 or US Letter).
Print in color if you can–the red watch days jump off the page when you’re half-asleep. Laminate at the office supply shop for three bucks and use a whiteboard marker; the sheet survives spilled water bowls and drooly pills.
Scout is now six months steroid-free and back to yowling at pigeons. One piece of paper kept his glands from throwing a strike, and my carpet from becoming a war zone. Hope it does the same for your tiger.
Cheaper than the vet markup: 5 U.S. pharmacies shipping liquid prednisolone for under $15
My cat Martini hates the carrier, the car, and the vet’s waiting room where the dog scale always flashes 28 lbs instead of his actual 9. After a $78 markup on a 15 ml bottle of prednisolone–same strength, same manufacturer–I started hunting for Plan B. Below are five places that will mail the liquid to your door for less than the price of a large pizza. All quotes are for 15 mg/5 ml, 30 ml bottle, no insurance, shipped inside the lower 48. Prices checked this week; stock moves fast.
1. Honeybee Health (honeybeehealth.com)
$11.40 plus $4 flat shipping. They buy direct from West-Ward’s wholesale arm, so the label looks identical to the one my vet handed over. California phone staff will call your vet for approval, usually same day. Bottle arrived in a plain padded mailer, ice pack still cool.
2. Cost Plus Drugs (costplusdrugs.com)
Mark Cuban’s outfit lists it at $9.70. Shipping is free once you hit $15, so I tossed in a $5 tube of chlorhexidine wipes I needed anyway. Total $14.70, doorstep in four days (Texas to Oregon). Tracking updates actually work.
3. Amazon Pharmacy (pharmacy.amazon.com)
$12.89 if you skip Prime Rx and pick the “standard” speed (five business days). They texted the vet, approval came back in 90 minutes, and the bottle showed up tucked between two boxes of coffee pods. Cat was unimpressed; my wallet wasn’t.
4. HealthWarehouse (healthwarehouse.com)
Kentucky-based, $10.50 for the bottle, $3.95 shipping. Only catch: they won’t ship to Louisiana or Nevada because of state licensing quirks. I used my sister’s Indiana address and she dropped it in the mail to me–still beat the clinic price by $60.
5. GeniusRx (geniusrx.com)
Coupon code “PET5” knocks the price to $8.99. Shipping is $4.99, so $13.98 total. The coupon field hides under “payment options,” easy to miss. Bottle expires in 18 months; Martini will be through it in 6, so we’re fine.
Quick how-to: Have your vet’s name, phone, and the exact written dose ready. Every site asks for the same info. If the prescription says “5 mg twice daily,” don’t round up to 15 mg/ml “for convenience”–they’ll reject it and you’ll lose a day playing phone tag. Pay with a credit card that gives pharmacy cash back; 3 % on $12 still buys a can of Fancy Feast.
Martini’s new bottle lives in the butter drawer, right next to the eye drops he also hates. I’m $65 closer to the sushi fund, and he’s breathing easy–no car ride required.
When the sneeze returns: 3 red-flag days that trigger an instant vet call-back
Sneezing in cats is cute–until it’s not. One “achoo” after a sun-dust bender is normal. Three in a row every morning for a week is the cat’s way of texting SOS. Prednisolone quiets the flare, but it doesn’t erase the triggers. Below are the days I circle on the calendar when I manage my asthmatic tabby, Max, and why I hit the vet’s speed-dial before the next pill.
Day 1 of the relapse streak
If Max sneezes more than five times in twenty-four hours, I start a tally on the fridge. The count rarely lies. By the second sunrise, if the number climbs or I spot a single droplet of blood on his paw after he wipes his nose, the carrier comes out. Prednisolone can shrink inflammation, but it can’t plug a bleeding vessel or kill a resistant bacterial hitchhiker hiding in the nasal fold.
The first skipped meal
Smell drives appetite. When nasal swelling blocks scent molecules, the bowl stays full. The moment Max leaves even half of his 7 a.m. tuna ration, I cancel my meetings. A cat off food for 48 h risks hepatic lipidosis–liver suicide, vets call it. I phone the clinic, request a same-day scope, and ask for a taper-adjusted steroid plan plus appetite stimulants. Acting before the third missed meal keeps the IV catheter out of his paw.
The night the breathing changes
Sneezes that morph into open-mouth abdominal pumps are the scariest. I keep the flashlight on my nightstand. If the beam shows 40 breaths per minute while Max is resting, or if I see a blue tint on his gums, we’re in the car within ten minutes–no towel, no coffee, no regrets. Prednisolone can’t beat an acute bronchospasm; only oxygen and a fast-acting injection can.
I store the vet’s cell in favorites and pack an “asthma go-bag”: carrier, last prescription label, and a dated log of every sneeze attack. Those three red-flag days haven’t vanished, but they no longer catch me off guard–and Max spends more time chasing flies than staring at the nebulizer mask.