Beast aka Hank

****TRIGGER WARNING****

I want to preface, I wish this case had come to me when we had the resources we have now. I wish I could have done more for him. I wish I had more evidence. I wish I had reported it.

How I met a cat named Chunk

I was asked via messenger to handle a sensitive matter for someone I was friendly with. A law enforcement friend of the family had a cat that they were “at wit’s end with”. I was told: they wouldn’t give him to a rescue, wouldn’t take him to the vet, and planned to terminate him. Chunk was an 8/9 year old purebred Maine Coon. He had severe litterbox avoidance and had caused “thousands in damage” that had to be repaired before the house could be put on the market to sell. I was getting only second hand information before I agreed to get him.

The Wife, the Husband, and the Beast

Background: Chunk had been left with the parents when the son went to military training and deployment. He had little to no preventative care. The wife was absolutely sick of him. I never got to speak with her, but the plan was to give him sleeping pills and turn the car on in the garage to kill him. I cannot make this up. I knew the husband was a corrections officer and that this had to be kept in the family to protect his reputation and job. I kick myself daily for not pursuing this further, but my goal at the time was to save this cat. The wife refused to speak to me or any other rescue/shelter. I gently convinced the husband that I was going to get him one way or another, but his cooperation would be appreciated. I told him to call me anytime day or night and I would go get him.

3 AM

The call came at 3 AM. I bolted up, got my surrender contract, and headed to him. I received a half ass signature, $20, a bag of food ferals wouldn’t touch, and a 10-12 pound cat shoved into a kitten sized carrier. I asked if I could reach out for some additional information and was told “sure”. I had prepped for Chunk (now renamed Hank) by getting a puppy sized litter box with a low lip, setting up a containment in the garage (to protect my flooring) and making sure it was cozy and loving. I let Hank out in his enclosure and he shut down and head pushed in the large wire crate for 2 hours.

Hard work and limited funds

Hank needed a vet exam. He had been using his box religiously, but he wasn’t pooping. Our vet, Sunset Animal Hospital did the best they could with what we could afford and prescribed: Miralax and a wet food diet. Hank liked pate, but only the beef. After a week of this, he began to poop normally and he was visibly happier. Next came the heartbreaking work.

He was ready to be inside

I moved Hank into my office and he started to have accidents. He was HIGHLY stress triggered and knowing what I do now, I would have changed the substrate, done noise therapy, etc… there’s a litter box avoidance article coming so stay tuned.
One day I walked into the he room and he had pooped in the middle of the floor. The look on his face broke my heart. He immediately ran to the closet and cowered, Chris and I took a deep breath, entered, and cleaned it up like it was nothing at all. I sat down and called him over. He slinked over, low to the ground and gingerly head butted me. We told him it was okay and he wasn’t in trouble. It was very important that we treated him gently and encouraged only.

The second heartbreaking realization happened after a month. Hank wanted to join me outside of the office, which he could do, but generally chose not to. I gently used my foot to guide him away from the door and he flinched harder than I have ever seen a cat do. I don’t remember what I was holding, but I threw it on the desk and grabbed him. I have never cried so hard. I held him and told him I was sorry and that no one would ever hurt him again. I had a crystal clear picture (I tell people they need to be honest with me when they surrender or return a cat because I will find out exactly how they lived) of what he had to deal with daily. The vet and I spoke that day and determined why he wouldn’t drink water (his teeth were great!):

Hank was self dehydrating so he wouldn’t need to urinate. The litter boxes he was provided were an inappropriate size and covered, which caused him discomfort. It most likely started with peeing in front of the box and gradually became frantic house soiling. His vet records showed he was never taken in to see if he had a urinary tract infection. He was forced outside after living indoors only and most likely ate whatever junk food was left out for neighborhood cats.
Adoption day

I found a home for Hank in Lake County with someone who understood his needs. She worked with at risk children for the county and we had many discussions about what triggered his house soiling. Hank was happy and loved. He slept in the bed for the first time in his life and he knew what it felt to be supported. We managed his arthritis with devil’s claw, a heated blanket, and glucosamine. We managed his stress with valerian root, theanine, chamomile, and lemon balm. Unfortunately there was too much damage done to his body.

He lived with his family for 1.5 years before the vet and she made the compassionate decision to let him go. He was painful and his soul was broken. Hank taught us so many things and it was another year before we took a cat like him. We needed to know we could provide everything they needed for success.

If you know of an animal that is being abused, contact your local animal control or humane society. Family or friend-don’t let them get away with abuse and neglect.