(*Steve with Rupert shortly after we got him).
Steve and I had three kittens by September 2012. I love cats. Due to the way he was treating me, and I was always home alone, he suggested that we go to our local PetSmart to adopt one as there was an adoption event there every Saturday. Of course, we couldn’t afford one because we had no money in the bank account. (No surprises there). I suppose it was his way to get me to stay with him. As we were leaving the store, a tiny ball of black fluff was brought in, who was found in an exhaust pipe. He was sick and was going to be put down if we didn’t take him. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
We took Rupert home and were I nursed him back to health. He was such a cutie! Because of what I had to do for him, the bond I had with him was great. I loved him as if he were my own child. It also meant I had the company I never had since going to the US. Steve called him Rupert Ellington (rounded of with his surname). He also decided that Rupert needed company, so we should get another kitten. I told him I thought one was enough, but once Steve had made his mind up about something, then he was going to do it regardless of what I thought. Bearing in mind, I was cleaning the litter tray when I wasn’t supposed to because I was pregnant. He did however, tell the doctors and nurses that it was he who was cleaning up after the kittens so he didn’t look bad.
Along came Stewart Gilligan (with his surname) in September. I remembering telling Steve that this particular kitten would be a lot of work, as he seemed scared. I was right. Shortened to Stewie, he would urinate and excrement all over the place. The carpets were light in colour, plus we didn’t have permission to have pets where we were, so I told Steve we would have to return him to the adoption centre. He refused. I was left scrubbing and cleaning every day, all day long whilst Steve was at work. I was not happy.
Next was Jacob Bartholomew (with his surname) in September 2012- just two weeks after Stewie. We had heard him meowing real loud and saw him trembling in an adoption cage in PetSmart when we had gone to get a few things for our kittens Rupert and Stewie. He was tiny and a sorry sight. Once I’d held him, he calmed down somewhat. When it was time to put him back in his cage, he started up again. I felt crushed, so Steve said we should adopt him. Three kittens? I said no. I walked off to go look for what we had originally gone there for, and by the time I had returned, Steve was filling out the paperwork.
(The trio didn’t initially get on, but did towards the end).
This next part is going to be incredibly hard for me to write, so please excuse me if it doesn’t make any sense. Each of these kittens didn’t deserve what happened to them.
Rupert – After enduring the journey up to New York and back again; being homeless and cold; once we arrived in Marietta, GA and had to live in a mould infested room just one month before our son was due, he was dumped in the cold and dark in November 2012. I can only hope he was found and placed into a loving home.
Stewie – Steve came home one day in early October 2012, and was angry because I told him I was fed up with cleaning up cat mess, urging him to return the kitten to the adoption centre. I’m sure someone would have found the time to train Stewie properly. Steve knew the mess could affect our unborn son. What did he do? Waited for nightfall, ran out of the door with the kitten, jumped in the car and drove off into the night. I didn’t even realise what was happening until I couldn’t find Stewie. I frantically called Steve. His phone rang, but I was baffled as to why I was able to hear it… He’d deliberately left his phone at home. When he did eventually return, I asked what the hell was going on and where the kitten was. Handing me his work duffel bag, I opened it to find Stewie bleeding. He was in agony. The skin on his paws were red raw, he had a busted lip, he had what felt like broken ribs. What he told me would and will haunt me for a long time. He had strung up the kitten and beat him senseless. Then strapped him up and threw him against a fence of some sort. I pleaded with Steve to take him to an emergency vet. He refused. He took away the extra car key I had in my bag to ensure I couldn’t take the poor thing to get help. I was mortified. I was in pain. In an instant, the kitten was snatched from me, and off Steve went again into the night. It took a little while for him to return – without Stewie. He enjoyed me begging him for an hour or so to take me to the place where he taken the dying kitten. There was nothing but darkness. No trace of him at all. I asked Steve if he was certain about the location. He said yes and that Stewie had probably joined the pack of cats he’d seen down the road earlier. I didn’t believe him then and I don’t believe him now.
Jacob – Mid October 2012, Jacob had soiled himself. Steve came home to find Jacob in the (empty) bathroom sink where I had placed him, to keep him away from the carpet so I could clean it. Asking what had happened, I told Steve who told me to finish up what I was doing and go rest. He’d wash Jacob as he had excrement in his fur. Wow. Was I hearing right? Had Steve finally changed into a decent man? I welcomed the rest; I needed it. My back was killing me and I was weak from not eating properly. So, after cleaning up, I lay on the bed in the master bedroom and closed my eyes. About half an hour passed when I heard my name. “Persia! Persia! Come here!”. It took me a little while to realise that I wasn’t dreaming. I moved as fast as I could. The kitten was barely breathing… He died in my hands. Steve had drowned him. I was the last thing poor Jacob saw, rather than that of his murderer. We argued something fierce. He told me he didn’t know what happened, the kitten just gave up. I cried and told him we had to tell of what had happened. As always, he refused and warned me not to say anything. Picking up the dead kitten, Steve put him into a plastic bag and threw him into a dumpster.
I feel bad and guilty for not reporting him at the time. Would anyone have believed me? He had gotten rid of the evidence each time. If no-one did, I would have to go home with this monster and suffered, no doubt affecting my unborn son – who might I add, hadn’t moved for three days during all of this when I was seven months pregnant. I still have a flashbacks about it, and I know it’s not all about me, but no wonder I suffer from PTSD after being with this lunatic.
Rest In Peace Stewie and Jacob. Hopefully reunited at Rainbow Bridge. I’m sorry I let you both down and am sorry for the suffering you both endured from Steve.
Rupert, I hope a lovely family took in in and you are living the life you deserve, second time round.
(*Not his real name)