By Karlyn Sturmer

When the Department of Mental Health discussed the closing of Fairfield Hills Hospital nearly 10 years ago, it was not just the just the patients who faced an uncertain future.

There was also the multitude of cats that had long resided in the basements, greenhouses and tunnels connecting the buildings … cats that depended on the patients for their daily care and protection.

In return these cats provided therapeutic sustenance to the patients; some might even say the cats provided more than did the hundreds of psychiatrists, social workers, and nurses who worked at the state mental hospital.

Caring for the cats, bringing them food scraps from the cafeteria, and making bedding out of discarded state linen gave the residents some relief from the demons that brought them to this institution and also a sense of family when they were abandoned by their own. The patients named them and loved them and in return received unconditional love from their feline companions.

There was never a shortage of cats over the years; their numbers grew as they reproduced freely. In the 1980s, the growth in their numbers finally caught the attention of local animal welfare groups, which spayed and neutered and vaccinated most of the cats and brought the feline population down to manageable numbers.

When the hospital closed, it was up to the Department of Mental Health to insure that each of the long-term human residents was moved to another residential facility or placed in the care of local agencies that would supervise their integration into the community. But it was the animal welfare volunteers who found themselves with the burden of making sure the institution’s cats got new homes.

At the end of 1999, by all accounts, the job was done and there were no cats left on the campus.

Yet, in early 2000 a Newtown volunteer with Danbury Animal Welfare Society discovered two cats behind the power plant – the large, isolated and foreboding building hidden at the back of the campus, adjacent to acres of dense woods.

One cat was a furry longhaired tortoise-shelled beauty and the other was a compact, short-tailed orange tabby with an angelic face. The cats were not wild, but they were careful to keep their distance. The volunteer was surprised to see some food dishes and empty cat food cans on a concrete pad so she posted a note asking for information on the cats.

It was not long before she got a call from one of the security guards and found out the history on these cats.

Apparently Ada (the tortie) and Canaan (the orange tabby) had been living around the power plant for over a year. Whether they were left behind as kittens when the hospital closed or had wandered onto the campus later was not known, but they were first noticed in 1999 during a very cold winter.

One of the guards made a shelter out of a plastic barrel and fed them on the days he worked. One day, after a particularly bad storm, he saw that half of Canaan’s tail was hanging lifeless and realized that the cat was suffering from frostbite. When the guard looked inside the barrel, he realized that the towels used as bedding were wet and the cats, with no other shelter from the cold, were forced to lie on the frozen bedding.

NOTE: Shelters for outside cats should use straw or wood shavings for bedding because they are better insulators and don’t readily absorb moisture.

So, with the permission of his supervisor, the guard removed a windowpane so the cats could go inside of the power plant, which – although unheated – got the cats out of the brutal wind and snow. Eventually the frostbitten half of Canaan’s tail dropped off and he was left with the short stub that now gives him his unusual look.

The DAWS volunteer was moved by the plight of these two animals. She immediately assessed their living situation by crawling through the window and discovered that the power plant was a disaster with water leaks and falling asbestos. But, still, it was a haven for the cats and, given that the DAWS shelter was so full, it had to suffice as their home at that time.

The power plant did have one redeeming factor – the electricity was still working. So the volunteer plugged in a heated animal bed and placed it in a box packed with straw. She moved the food dishes indoors and connected a heated water dish so the water would no longer freeze. And then she worked out a schedule with the security guard so that, on his days off, she would stop by with food and check out the cats.

This arrangement worked just fine for the cats, who finally had warm shelter, a steady source of food, and safety from predators.

But in 2002, as plans commenced for the opening of the new Reed Elementary that fall, school administrators expressed concern about the dangers posed by the power plant being located just across the road. The abandoned building with its maze of catwalks, rusting generators and 10-foot boilers was seen as too tempting and potentially dangerous for adventurous boys and girls.

Administrators wanted the building boarded up and, for good measure, a six-foot fence erected around the entire perimeter. Suddenly Ada and Canaan’s home and way of life were threatened.

So the volunteer lured the cats into carriers and transferred them to the DAWS shelter in Bethel. They were terrified at first to be taken from their quiet, hidden abode, but soon they were purring and responding well to volunteers.

While it was originally thought they would do best adopted together, Ada and Canaan showed that they were happy making new friends. Originally the shyer of the two, Ada became very friendly and was soon adopted into a multi-cat household presided over by a cat lover who spared no costs in showering her feline family with the best of care.

While Canaan also is very friendly, he has been overlooked in a shelter often brimming with cats. Yet he has not fared poorly in that environment. In fact he has thrived there, as he loves other cats, and they in turn absolutely adore him.

Canaan is the pied piper of the shelter. The other cats just gravitate to him and he has a devoted entourage wherever he goes. He has helped many timid cats lose their shyness. While DAWS volunteers want every cat to be adopted into their forever home – and no one deserves that more than the gentle and generous Canaan – they know that so many of Canaan’s companions will be heartbroken when he leaves the shelter for his new home.

DAWS is looking for a new home for Canaan and hopes that a cat lover could also open his or her heart for one or two of Canaan’s best buddies.

Like Carrie – a three-year-old petite tabby that was part of a group of cats living in an industrial area of town and cared for by a kindly employee. When the man noticed that coyotes were attacking the cats, he started moving them out of the area and finding them homes. A bit timid at first, Carrie ended up at the DAWS shelter and has become one of the feline greeters, rubbing up against visitors’ ankles and demanding to be petted. She is constantly at Canaan’s side, and when she finds him snuggling up with one of his other buddies, she stands a few feet away waiting for her turn to cuddle. She would do best in a multi-cat household.

And then there is Gibby – another of Canaan’s followers. She is a beautiful, petite, pastel calico and also three-years-old. She is a wonderfully sweet cat, but still a tad on the shy side. As with Carrie, she would do best in a multi-cat household.

Canaan himself is eight-years-old. He is active and healthy but, because of past bouts of urinary tract infections, he will need to be fed CD Prescription Diet cat food. As with all of DAWS’ cats, he is neutered and up to date on his vaccinations. He is also negative for feline leukemia and FIV.

DAWS volunteers feel that, maybe, he could become the pied piper of a new house and bring joy to the lives of a new family every single day.

To learn more about Canaan, Carrie, or Gibby, call DAWS at 744-DAWS. To visit them and the rest of DAWS’ cats and dogs, stop by during adoption hours – Monday through Friday from 6 to 8 pm and Saturday and Sunday from 2 to 4 pm. The shelter is located at 147 Grassy Plain Road (Route 53) in Bethel.