Andy started the session. “I understand that you contacted our office to ask for help.”
Olivia said, “Yes. I’d like help with my neighbors.”
Andy asked the obvious question: “With your neighbors?”
Olivia said, “Yes. They reported me to our local health department. I agreed to seek counseling in return for not being evicted from my house.”
Andy said, “Do you understand what we do?”
Holding the kitten up to her face and looking into its eyes before placing it on the couch, she said, “Yes. You help hoarders. I understand that I’ve been labeled a hoarder.”
I expected her to continue. When she didn’t, Andy asked, “Do you consider yourself to be a hoarder?”
Olivia said, “I don’t put much stock in labels. I just hold onto things for a sense of continuity. And, also, I don’t want to be part of our throw-away society.” With a defiant tone, she added, “I’m guessing you wouldn’t either if you were in my shoes.”
Andy said, “Oh, I don’t know about that. Labels aren’t always a bad thing.”
Olivia said, “You ever been to war?”
Andy said, “No, I haven’t.”
Turning to me, she asked, “How about you?”
I said, “No, I haven’t either.”
Olivia said, “Well, I have. Two tours of duty in Iraq, another tour in Afghanistan. Nothing was permanent. I lost friends.” Pulling up the right side of her sweatpants, she revealed a robotic leg. “I also lost a leg.”
Andy said, “I’m sorry.”
I felt incredibly uncomfortable. I had no idea what to say.
Olivia continued. “OK, so now I’m back home, and my neighbors think they’re going to tell me how much stuff I can have in my house or how many cats I can own? I don’t think so!”
Andy asked, “How many cats do you own?”
Olivia answered, “Twenty-six counting the five new kittens I just got. I know all their names. Do you want me to recite them?”
Andy said, “Sure.”
Olivia managed to name all twenty-six cats. She said, “I know all their personalities. They’re all very different. I’m not getting rid of any of them.”
Andy asked if we could see some of the cats. Olivia picked up the kitten from the couch. She said, “This one is Soot Sprite. Good name, huh?”
I spoke for the first time since we got there. “I love the soot sprites in Miyazaki’s movies. Is that where you came up with the name?”
Olivia said, “Yeah. From My Neighbor Totoro. I loved those sprites.”
As we worked our way through Olivia’s house, we saw a total of twelve cats, five of which were the new kittens. Most of the older ones were scrawny-looking with matted fur.
Andy asked where Olivia kept litter pans. She showed us into a powder room off the front hallway. The bathroom and litter boxes were clean. There were also bowls of dry food and water in there. Olivia said, “This is basically the cat room. They come and go as they please.”
Andy asked, “Is there any kind of pecking order? Any alpha cats that keep the others from getting enough to eat?”
Scratching her head, Olivia said, “I don’t actually know. I don’t usually watch them eat. Like I said, they’re allowed to come and go as they please. Here, I’ll show you something.”
Leading us through mountains of collected items, Olivia led us to the back door.
I studied the objects she’d collected. I felt like an archaeologist analyzing historical layers, although I couldn’t determine a pattern. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the collection. It reminded me of a bird’s nest: colorful ribbons and dresses and books and papers, along with a toaster oven, microwave, computer and all sorts of other things stacked into some kind of nest.
When we got to the back door, Olivia pointed to a plastic flap at the bottom. She said, “That door gives them the freedom they want. They can go outside any time they choose.”
Andy said, “I see. One complaint from your neighbors is that your cats are killing the birds.”
Olivia opened her eyes wide in an expression of surprise, then asked, “Whose birds? Their birds?”
Andy said, “No, just regular birds—wild ones, the ones normally outside.”
Olivia said, “Yes. Well, that’s what cats do. There’s no law against that here. I checked.”
I said, “Some of your cats are very thin. Are you concerned about that?”
Turning around to head back toward the living room, Olivia shouted over her shoulder, “No, I’m not. They get plenty to eat.”
When we returned to the living room, Andy said, “We can’t talk to your neighbors for you. We don’t do that. Would you like help with anything else? Would you like us to help you sort through your things, see if there are some you’d like to part with in order to give you more space in your house?”
Olivia said, “I don’t need more space here. I don’t like open spaces. They make me feel nervous and uncomfortable. My home is where I go to feel safe. If you can’t help with the neighbors, I guess I don’t need your help.” She smiled and reached out her hand.
Andy shook her hand first, then I did.
As we were getting ready to walk out the front door, a mangy-looking calico cat sauntered up carrying a wriggling mouse in its teeth. Olivia laughed. “This one loves to bring me gifts.” Shooing the cat away, she said, “Come back later, Cinnamon. No mice in here!”
When we got back to the car, I asked Andy what the next step would be for us with Olivia.
Andy said, “There isn’t a next step. Not unless a family member or someone else specifically asks us to help, or the health department threatens to kick her out, or the bank threatens to foreclose on her house if she has a mortgage. Other than that, we don’t have the right to interfere with her life.”
On the drive over to Max’s house, we listened to a podcast on UFOs. Andy said, “I’m trying to learn as much as I can, in case this stuff turns out be real.”
I said, “Uh-huh. You should get informed about Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster, too, while you’re at it.”
Andy said, “Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster aren’t taking over people’s brains and making them go crazy right now. Have you heard the reports coming out of California?”
I said, “Yeah. I am a bit concerned, actually. It just seems so surreal. Something definitely seems to be happening out there. It could be anything affecting those people, though, maybe something in their water supply.”
Andy said, “I can’t think of anything that normally gets into the water supply that would make you see things that aren’t there.” He smiled. “I mean, unless they’re dumping LSD into the reservoir or something.”
I said, “Yeah, I’m sure that’s not happening. Sounds like something a movie villain would do. In real life, it would be too expensive.” I laughed.
As we drove up to Max’s place, we stopped joking around.
Six police cars with flashing red and blue lights had pulled into his driveway and parked on his front lawn. Wheel marks had flattened the grass and left a trail.
A bunch of police officers had gathered in the front yard. Max’s hands were constrained in handcuffs behind his back. Maggie was there, along with two men I didn’t know. Maggie was waving her hands, talking to the officers and crying. Neighbors had lined up across the street to watch the spectacle.
Andy parked next to the curb. As we got out of the car and stepped on the grass, a police officer placed a hand on his gun and walked toward us at a fast pace. Noticing this, Maggie came up beside him. In a shaky voice, she said, “Officer, these are my dad’s social workers. They were working with him on his hoarding issues.”