Before I start to talk about how my husband used our cats as a form of control, I will be honest with you; I found this article incredibly hard to write. Many tears have been shed in the process. How he treated the boys and the cats I find harder to deal with than the way he treated me. They were defenceless, I wasn’t so much.
This is Tinker and Smudge. Smudge is the one in front.
Whilst my husband never physically hurt the boys or myself he threatened our two cats with harm, not that he actually followed through with it. Cats that he wanted and claimed he cared about. When our original cat, Tinker, who came with us from England to the USA, had to be put to sleep, he cried. They were crocodile tears. He also appeared to be upset when three weeks later our California cat, Smudge, went the same way as Tinker. His tears were as fake as when Tinker died.
Why do I say his tears were fake? Actions as they say speak louder than words. There were times when he could be openly cruel to them. Take for instance when he bought ‘his’ new sofa in 2005 when we were living in the USA. The money came from an inheritance he received from his grandfather. He took the money and bought a huge sofa, the picture of it is below. It was ‘his’ sofa, he went so far as to ask the assistant at the furniture store where it was purchased, if the material was ‘cat proof’. He was told it was, but as it turned out, after initially being reluctant to go on it, both cats decided if it was good enough for us humans then it was certainly good enough for them. I had no problem with them going on it as it was part of having the cats. I placed throws on the two areas of the sofa that they liked to go on and encouraged them to use them, they did. The main thing in my opinion was they didn’t attempt to scratch the sofa, which neither of them did. Unfortunately my husband had a different view. I guess what made him not make an issue of the cats sleeping on the sofa was that when he told his parents, they laughed and didn’t see a problem. However that didn’t stop him from taking his anger towards them being on the sofa out in other ways.
The new sofa
The sofa came with two recliners and a pull out bed. One evening he had reclined the part he was sitting on. Somehow Tinker managed to crawl up into the back of the sofa between the material and the mechanism. When he realised what she had done, rather than entice her out, he threatened to put the recliner into the upright position thereby trapping and potentially killing her. He was that angry. I was begging him not to do it. Hearing the noise my elder son came out to see what was going on and with some gentle persuasion removed Tinker from the back of the sofa and took her to his room. Looking back at that incident I believe if the mechanism had killed Tinker had my husband put the recliner back into the upright position, he would have blamed her. After all it was his modus operandi to blame everyone or thing but himself.
The sofa showing the recliners
When I was going through the pictures of the cats for this article, I was reminded about the fur on Tinker’s tummy. The picture of her lying on the path was taken at our house in England in 1994; she was about a year old. The second picture of her on the carpet was taken in 2007 at our house in Oregon, she was fourteen. What is noticeable about the picture of her on the carpet is the lack of fur on her tummy. From a young age she started licking her tummy to the point where she had licked the fur off. Even the vet had no idea what was causing her to do it after ruling out parasites and medical conditions. What he didn’t take into consideration was stress or did he? It was my husband, who took the cats to the vet, was it something else he failed to tell me about? Did the vet say she was suffering from stress and licking her tummy was a sign of it? If so my husband ignored it and over the years Tinker’s tummy licking became worse.
Tinker with fur on her tummy
Tinker with a lack of fur on her tummy
Another thing Tinker did was go through periods of meowing very loudly. This drove my husband mad and so added to the stress in the house. His attitude didn’t help either of them. Over the years the slightest little thing that they innocently did would set him off and he was forever threatening to “chuck them outside and leave them to the wildlife”. The wildlife included mountain lions, bobcats and rattlesnakes, just to name three. The boys and I didn’t want them outside and did our best to make sure they didn’t upset my husband.
Smudge as he got older became reluctant to use the litter tray. He would pee in it, but not poop. We always kept it clean and started to scoop it if Tinker had done her business in it. This didn’t work either; even changing the type of cat litter that was used didn’t work either. He, too, was stressed.
When thinking back about how my husband treated Smudge, one particular incident does stand out. One evening Smudge was sound asleep on the sofa. My husband went up to him and tickled him. Smudge was startled out of his sleep and scratched my husband’s hand. Immediately he realised what he’d done and I could see the panic in him. My husband predictably reacted with fury, saying amongst other things if his hand was injured he couldn’t work and it would be the cat’s fault. It wasn’t, he received a minor scratch, but the tension in the house had risen again.
The cat’s food was another issue that caused the stress levels to rise. From when we first had her Tinker didn’t like tinned cat food, she much preferred the dry variety. Smudge was the same, although in all fairness he was less fussy than she was. Tinker liked her food fresh, even the dry variety. It amused the boys and myself when there was a little of their food left in their food bowl and Tinker would be looking at us to put some fresh in it. We would say to her go and get Smudge to finish it and then we’ll put some fresh out for you. She’d go and find him and he’d come and eat the remaining food in their bowl. As promised the bowl would be cleaned and fresh food put out for them. Cats are smart.
Periodically my husband would get it into his head that the cats should eat the tinned cat food. No more dried food, they must only eat the tinned food. Tins were bought and they didn’t eat it. My husband ranted but in the end more dried food was purchased and so the cycle began again. To this day I’ve no idea why he went through these phases because his own parent’s cats for the most part ate dried cat food and lived to a good age.
In those rare moments of realising my marriage wasn’t normal and I fleetingly considered leaving him, I knew not only would I take the boys but would take the cats as well. There was no family to turn to and I hadn’t a clue where I would find a place that would take one adult, two children and two cats. I suspect he knew it and it would have given him a great deal of satisfaction. I ended up staying, defeated by the logistics of figuring out how to leave with two boys and the two cats.
Out of all the ways he used to control us it is what he did to the boys and the cats and how he used the cats to control us that I find the most upsetting. I also believe that he acted in the way he did to the cats was because he was jealous of the attention we gave them and the attention they gave us. A narcissist, which is what he was, wants to be the centre of attention and when my husband wasn’t he turned nasty. That is another aspect of the abuse that I am coming to understand.
It has been thirteen years since Tinker and Smudge departed this earth and I miss them dearly. They were funny, loveable, and had strong personalities. At night I had a glass of water on my bedside cabinet; Tinker decided it was her glass and would come and sit on my pillow and head and lean over to take a drink. In the end I put a cup of water out for her at night which she drank out of. Bizarrely she also liked drinking out of the toilet. Smudge liked drinking from a running tap which seemed quite normal compared to Tinker’s drinking habits!
When looking for the pictures for this article I found it hard to look through all the pictures of the cats. Memories came flooding back, some good, some not so good. Should I have refused when my parents offered to get us a cat, maybe, but I had no idea how my husband was going to treat Tinker and later on Smudge. He had always been good around his parent’s cats and I based the decision to have a cat based on his reactions. Also I liked the idea of the boys growing up with a pet and I am a softy when it comes to animals. When I heard that Smudge, who together with his sisters was found by a neighbour’s fence, needed a home, I had no hesitation offering him one.
Those little fuzzies brought a lot of joy into the boys and my life and for that we will forever be eternally grateful. They will continue to be a part of our lives. Tinker and Smudge we love you and always will.