🐾 About Kittie Killz

Born from survival. Built on love. Fueled by loss.

This brand didn't start with a business plan. It started with a cat named Valentine.

For a couple of years, I lived inside one of the most damaging things a person can survive — a deeply abusive, narcissistic relationship. The kind that strips you down piece by piece until you don't recognize yourself anymore. The kind where you stop believing you deserve to leave, let alone survive.

Valentine kept me here. She was my cat, my constant, my reason to get up. She had three litters of kittens and I kept babies from each one. I couldn't have children of my own — so they were my children. Every single one of them. He knew that. And he used it.

The Day I Had to Run

The day came when I had to flee for my safety. I had a short window. I couldn't take my babies. I fought every legal channel I could find — courts, police, animal control — and not one of them would help me get Valentine or any of my cats back. Not one.

He threw my indoor cats outside. When I got close trying to reach them, he came at me — once with a moped. I was risking my life every time I tried. And I still tried.

My stepdaughter called me one day when he was gone. She snuck me a kitten named Luckie — the only survivor of her litter. She told me later that he had drop-kicked her out the door. The dogs almost had her. No one was buying cat food anymore. Luckie made it to me because one person chose kindness.

Mister

My baby boy Mister — from Valentine's first litter — went missing. I searched for a month. Blocks and blocks, morning and night, posting everywhere, begging my ex to just tell me if he'd dropped him somewhere. I told him: if you ever loved me, you'd see me crying like this and just tell me the truth.

Someone told me he was probably dead. I said I would never stop looking until I knew for sure — because if I were lost and alone, I wouldn't want anyone to give up on me.

The next day, I got a message. A cat matching his description was at the pound. My mom helped me get him out. I was so relieved I could barely breathe. That made my ex furious — because he hated Mister the most. Because Mister loved me the most.

Exactly one year after I saved him, Mister was hit by a vehicle and killed. I still cry when certain songs come on. I always will.

The Ones I Lost

Mrs. Kitty — Luckie's mother, the one he drop-kicked, the one he flicked a lit cigarette at to hurt me — got into the yard next door. The dogs got her. She was gone.

Another baby from Mrs. Kitty's first litter followed. One by one, they were taken from me by cruelty and neglect that I had no power to stop.

And then there's Tilty — my tuxedo girl. Pure innocence in every sense of the word. I still don't know if she's alive. I still ask around. I still hope. When the time is right, I'll look for her again.

Eventually, with the help of a neighbor, I got Valentine back. My mother cat. My first baby. The one who started it all.

Why This Matters Beyond Me

Abusers use pets as weapons. They know what your animals mean to you — and they use that knowledge to control, punish, and destroy you. When you finally escape, you're often forced to leave them behind. And then the system fails you completely.

Police won't help. Courts won't help. Animal control won't help. You're told they're "just property." But they are not property. They are family. And losing them — or watching them suffer because of someone else's cruelty — is a trauma that doesn't go away.

Kittie Killz exists because of everything I went through and every cat I've seen abandoned, hurt, or left behind by people who were supposed to love them. I want to help anyone in a situation like mine. I want to help the cats who have no one.

🐾 For Valentine. For Mister. For all of them.