I am convinced God works through animals.
Have you ever seen or heard of Him healing a broken heart with a dog or cat? I have and it’s beautiful.
As a matter of fact, I experienced it, and because it was so powerful, I created a Cat Therapy program at the Ohio Reformatory for Women.
In conjunction with the mental health department, which is full of self-proclaimed “cat ladies,” we implemented a hands-on, huggable aspect to prison life, healing and recovery. My cat, Simon, was chosen to become the therapy cat and he does his job purrfectly (sorry, I couldn’t help it!).
I was blessed with Simon in October 2019. His parents were strays who made ORW home. Everyone fed them, but few ever, ever managed to pet them. They lived within our fences for about a decade, having litters of kittens that staff members would take home. On September 1, 2019, another litter was born; the mother was clearly getting weary and slower, so the consensus was to find a way to help, keep them safe, and be proactive.
ORW’s Pawsabilities program is located in my housing unit. There are 100 inmates, 11 cats, 12 Circle Tail dogs (training to be service dogs), between 10-25 staff dogs (for daycare, grooming or boarding), and three adoptable dogs. It’s a unique setup, honestly, and I’m grateful to be part of it. We work hard to earn and keep our places in the program, as it promotes responsibility, teamwork, professionalism and lots of furry, heartwarming moments.
The effort is worth it because Pawsabilities is hugely successful and well respected within ODRC.
When the kittens were about five weeks old, we brought them into the housing unit. We kept them in an empty cell with proper bedding, food and tons of toys. Like the rest of our cats, they were under the jurisdiction of the Union County Humane Society (UCHS). Four of us were selected by staff to be their handlers, aka “cat moms.” It was such a joy to go in that cell and play, feed, watch them learn to pounce and figure out their new weird world!
I bonded with a gray striped tabby, named him Simon, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. My favorite part of the day was kitty naptime: I’d sit on the concrete floor with my back against the concrete wall and put Simon inside my hoodie jacket. He’d squirm around, purr and eventually fall asleep. I’d ignore my surroundings and be immersed in the preciousness of the moment and grace of God.
When Simon and his siblings went to UCHS for checkups, shots and to get fixed, I was a classic first-time mom, impatiently praying until their safe and healthy return. We finally caught the parents — our own mission impossible to be sure. They were also sent to UCHS for care and relocation. A staff member took them home to her farm where they lived happily ever after.
All four kittens returned to ORW, were officially placed, and Simon became the fourth roommate of our three-person cell on the second floor. I had a cat. In prison. That’s God.
Since I don’t have children, I’ve taken out all of my maternal instincts on Simon, and he loves every bit. Even though he’s almost six years old and a strong, energetic 16 pounder, he’s my perpetual toddler. And yet, it is he is who convinced me how God works through cats too. They sense when we are hurting and innately know what to do — without a word being spoken! What an awesome wonder.
Over the years, I’ve experienced healing, glimpses of paroled life and had my broken heart mended. When my parole was denied for the fourth time, I was beyond words. But Simon knew something was terribly wrong. For three nights, instead of sleeping in his spot on my ankle, he crawled up to my pillow, right next to my face, and caught my tears in his fur. Honestly, I think that’s when God planted the seed for our new prison purpose.
Cat Therapy is my way of sharing Simon and spreading joy. Every week, we go to the Residential Treatment Unit to visit the women who are housed there. They have varying degrees of mental illnesses and emotional conditions, inhibiting them from living well in the general population. But no matter their state, this is certain: the pure joy and excitement on their faces when we come through the security door!
On our very first visit, one woman burst into tears when I put Simon in her arms. What she said is etched in my heart, “I forgot. I forgot what it’s like. I forgot how good it is to hold a cat. Thank you.”
At that moment, I knew the seed God had planted in my brokenness was blooming into something beautiful.
The women take turns petting and holding Simon with such care. He sits in their laps, is snuggled, cuddled, coddled and squooshed in their hugs, loved on, talked to, sung to, you name it. His temperament is amazingly calm (ahem, not exactly how he is otherwise), but it’s because he knows they need him.
Often, they share with me their stories, issues or challenges, all the while keeping their attention on Simon. It seems easier to talk about the bad stuff that way. Sometimes they prefer to sit quietly and hold him in silence. By the end of our session, the atmosphere itself feels different. Calmness replaces static and peacefulness subdues angst. And there’s already anticipation for our next visit!
My training as a Stephen Minister is ideal for cat therapy. I’ve learned when to speak, when to listen and how to simply be present in many different situations. As a result of this, Simon and I are also on call with the chaplains. We have helped other inmates with pre-parole board hearing anxiety, loneliness, depression and general prison awfulness.
I am currently researching how to get Simon registered as an actual support/therapy cat because this is something I want to continue when we are released. Since I get to take him home with me, I believe cat therapy is part of God’s plan for our future. Sidebar: I also can’t wait for him to explore a real house and meet Mom, Dad and the rest of my family!
Until then, I continue to thank God for my little guy and for giving us a purpose while in prison.
Michele Williams is incarcerated at the Ohio Reformatory for Women in Marysville.