MEDIA STATEMENT – THE CAT HAVEN
The Story of Jellybean: A Survivor Failed by the System

Jellybean, a male tabby, came into The Cat Haven Rescue at just four weeks old. He was desexed, microchipped, and not long after began showing signs of Neuro FIP—a disease that is almost always fatal. For 84 gruelling days he received treatment involving multiple vet visits, full blood panels, special food, medications, supplements, and 24/7 care. Against the odds, Jellybean was cured.

He remained with us for a further three months to ensure there was no relapse. Only once he was stable, happy, and healthy did we put him up for adoption. On 10 March, we believed we had found the perfect home: a young woman studying nursing who lived with her mother.

Unfortunately, it soon became clear this home was not what it seemed. Within days, we began receiving late-night calls and long messages from the mother, speaking not about Jellybean but about her daughter’s behaviour and personal issues. This was unusual and concerning, but I tried to make excuses to avoid becoming further involved.

A month into the adoption, I was told Jellybean had developed urinary blockages. He was admitted multiple times to VSA animal hospital, undergoing repeated catheterisations and tests, with claims he had been diagnosed with FLUTD. However, I was never shown veterinary notes to confirm this. I fundraised and gathered donations to help cover these expensive hospital visits, believing he was genuinely unwell.

It wasn’t until the mother began confiding further details that I realised the extent of the problem. She described her daughter’s disturbing behaviours: locking herself in a car with the ashes of a deceased cat, refusing to allow an ambulance to be called when her welfare was in question, rubbing fish into the carpet in frustration over giving Jellybean medication, hiding his medication, and screaming at Jellybean. She admitted Jellybean had become aggressive, was urinating inappropriately, and that her daughter would not agree to simple welfare measures like crating him to reduce stress and monitor his health.

I repeatedly offered to take Jellybean to my own vet—at my cost—but was declined. During his VSA stays, the family visited only three times in three weeks. I was also told that Jellybean was left unsupervised overnight and had ripped out his catheter twice.

On 14 June, I received a distressed phone call: Jellybean was blocked again, and their local vet advised euthanasia because they could not afford further treatment. I immediately offered to take him into my care and cover costs, including PU surgery if necessary. They agreed.

When I arrived at their vet, Jellybean was in a carrier on the table, shaking in terror while his adopters stood far away offering no comfort. I took him directly to my vet, where—contrary to the previous claims—he urinated normally, with no blockage. Bloodwork and urinalysis came back completely normal.

Once home, Jellybean was placed in a large crate in my bedroom. Initially anxious, circling and cowering at head pats, he soon calmed, peeing normally and showing no signs of urinary issues. After consulting multiple vets, the consensus was clear: his condition was stress-related, not medical.

I informed the adopters that it was in Jellybean’s best interests to remain with me. While the daughter agreed, the mother became combative, insisting he be returned despite veterinary advice. When Jellybean had a scheduled vet check, the mother and a male associate even turned up unannounced at the clinic to try and take him.

The mother then transferred Jellybean’s microchip into her own name, cutting me off from accessing veterinary records. Still, I ensured he saw independent vets weekly for monitoring. For three months in my care, Jellybean had zero urinary issues, thrived, put on weight, and was booked for a long-awaited dental surgery.

Twice I offered to return him if the mother signed a new adoption contract transferring the microchip back, committing to a stress-free environment, and agreeing that if urinary issues returned, Jellybean would be returned to The Cat Haven. Both times she refused. Instead, she went to Police.

On 17 September, Police and SPCA arrived at my home with a search warrant. They seized Jellybean and issued me with trespass notices from the adopters, another rescue, and an individual previously shut down for cat neglect. I was handed a court summons, charged with theft—for protecting a cat’s welfare.

Jellybean, terrified, hid under my bed during the raid. While Police initially prevented me from helping, SPCA staff allowed me to call him out. He came immediately into my arms, trusting me as he always had. I gave him a kiss, placed him gently into their carrier, and tried to provide information about his food, care, and recent veterinary records. Both Police and SPCA dismissed me.

Now, Jellybean is back in the very environment that triggered his stress, aggression, and illness. He has been taken from a place where he was thriving, happy, and safe, and returned to instability—all under the authority of the very systems meant to protect animals.

I am devastated. Jellybean fought through FIP, endured countless procedures, and finally healed, only to be failed by human systems. His welfare should have been the priority, yet it was ignored.

The Cat Haven will continue to advocate for Jellybean and for higher accountability in New Zealand’s animal welfare system. Cases like this set a dangerous precedent where the wellbeing of animals is disregarded in favour of paperwork and ego.

For media enquiries:
The Cat Haven
thecathavenowner@gmail.com

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