Stuart- AKA The Devil

I have an embarrassing situation to share.  You always think that it can’t happen to you, won’t happen to you – that you are too strong, too smart, too independent to ever stay in an abusive relationship.   But if my story can help just one person, maybe it will all have been worth it.

I was in an abusive relationship with my cat, Stuart.  And he was the one doling out the punishment.

Stuart was a pure-bred, Russian Blue cat that allegedly cost $2000.  I got him for free, which in hindsight was still too expensive for the pain he cost me.  

I came upon Stuart from a friend of a friend of a friend…  you get the picture.  The couple was tearfully parting with their beloved pet (oh, the theatrics) because they were expecting a child.  Oh, and because their other cat, Wilbur, was on anti-anxiety medicine because Stuart tormented him.  And both cats were relieving themselves outside of the litter box; Wilbur, due to his anxiety, and Stuart, due to his narcissism & drive to be THE dominant male.

One other note about Stuart.  He was totally gay.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.  Stuart was the most flamboyant, fabulous cat I’ve ever encountered.  He refused to play with male-centric toys like hunting mousies.  No, Stuart preferred to prance around with jelly bracelets dangling from his teeth.  He adored wearing a purple bandana.  And he was a total drama queen.  If you walked into a room, he instantly dropped to his back, exposing his belly for stroking, and batted his eyelashes.  If you happened to be in a rush and were able to pass up this adorable plea for affection, Stuart would jump up & run in front of you and assume the position again.  It was beyond cute.  Here he is:

So it was a total shock to me when Stuart went from being a sweet & loving cat to a demon that was ruining. my . life.   

Stuart & I had just moved into our new 1 bedroom apartment.  It was my first time ever to live on my own, and I decided that I should get a pet so that I had some company in case I was lonely.  A cat seemed like the perfect pet choice because they are relatively independent animals.  They don’t need to be walked like a dog & can easily stay on their own for a couple days without much concern.  At least, normal cats are able to stay on their own…

I was 25 and working a lot, traveling a lot, and partying a lot.  So I wasn’t spending much quality time alone at home with Stuart.  And he began to get jealous and resentful, which he demonstrated to me by urinating on my furniture.  

At first it was the couches.  I rectified this situation by putting painters plastic over my couches when I was traveling, so that the pee wouldn’t soak into the cushions.  But Stuart was savvy.  He started peeing on the couches AFTER I returned home from a trip, as if to say – Don’t even try to leave again, sister, if you know what’s good for you.  

I took Stuart to the vet several times to address the issue of him urinating outside of the box.  The vet suggested providing him with 2 litter boxes;  1 for #1 and 1 for #2.  I lived in a 1 bed, 1 bath, and my cat had 2 bathrooms.  Amazing.

I took to covering my couches at all times, except for when I was sitting on it.  So Stuart upped the ante.  One night while I was sleeping, he stood on top of my comforter and took a pee- right where I was sleeping.  My cat gave me a golden shower.

I jumped up & started screaming and was just in complete disbelief.  There is absolutely no more aggressive of behavior than for a cat to stand on top of its owner & pee on them – as if to say, You’re my bitch.   It’s a sad night when you have to wash your linens at 3 in the morning.  

I wasn’t able to sleep at night after Stuart peed on me.  If I left my bedroom door open, I would wake up the instant he stepped on my bed, in fear that he might get me again.  (For the record, he did pee on me one other time).  But if I left my door closed, he would scratch & cry outside the door, making a moaning sound that sounded like “Why, why, why.”  It was heartbreaking.   Alternately, he would run the length of the hallway and slam his body against the door, which was terrifying.  And as I lived in an older building, my bedroom door didn’t shut properly in the jam– it more just stuck.  And Stuart was able to essentially kick it open, which would wake me up.

It was time to take matters into my own hands.  I jimmy-rigged my door by putting a step ladder under the handle & a pair of flip flops against the closet wall facing the door, so if Stuart opened the door, the step ladder hit the flip flops & he couldn’t get in.  Genius. 

This was a great temporary solution, but I was still unable to get a good night’s sleep, what with Stuart constantly whining “why, why, why” outside my door & slamming his body against it like a wrestler.

After he peed on my couch one morning before work- while staring at me- I finally decided that enough was enough.  I had burdened my friends & family long enough with my Stuart woes.  My mom was practically refusing to take my calls.  

After 1 year & over $600 in vet bills, trying to fix my devil-cat, I decided to give Stuart up.  I brought him to the Humane Society & cried my eyes out.  I begged them not to put him down because he really was a sweet, loving boy – he just needed A LOT of attention. 

I called the HS every day for about a week, checking to see if Stuart was finally adopted & he finally was.

I was rid of Stuart (and my comforter & those couches) almost 6 years ago, but I still think of him from time to time – and thank god that I finally came to my senses & ditched the devil cat!