How GIS Saved my Cat

My husband Ben and I were away from our home in Saint Louis, visiting Seattle for a week-long itinerary, when we received a call from the house-sitter that our cat was nowhere to be found.

We felt helpless knowing that Gypsy, our indoor tabby cat of 10 years (and both of our first pet), was potentially outside somewhere, experiencing a type of unpampered survival that she'd never contended with before. Friends whom Gypsy would find familiar stopped by the house, searching it high and low to no avail. The neighborhood was canvassed and no clues found or sightings reported.

We arrived at home near midnight, and sprang into action; Ben set a raccoon trap with Gypsy's food, and I started combing under bushes and cars in the immediate vicinity with a flashlight. Ben decided he'd sleep outside on a cot, in hopes that the smell of her humans might draw Gypsy back home, while I slept with the front window open in the off-chance that I'd hear her approach from the outside.

At 5:45 am, I felt compelled to go outside, and almost immediately saw a small creature scurry up the neighbor's driveway. It was Gypsy! Using a flashlight, I found her shiny eyes under a bush and began to approach her. Cat experts also warn that escaped indoors pets typically are in 'fight or flight' mode and do not respond to their human's calls. She scurried up our driveway and into the backyard!

"Ben, wake up! Gypsy's here in the yard!" I scream-whispered to my sleeping spouse-on-a-cot. She sprinted behind the garage, and then under his car. I thought as she approached the back of the house that we'd be able to grasp her, but she panic-ran into and then under the chain link fence and back down the driveway in a north-east trajectory. We lost our chance.

Staying busy through what felt like productive actions that benefitted the search got us through the day. Ben bought and mounted security cameras for the front and back doors, and drove across the metro to buy a second humane trap.

I printed flyers with her picture for posting on light posts and mini-versions to hand out to neighbors, and began walking door-to-door.

By this time, Gypsy had spent 4 days outside, and our biggest concern was the impending heat. Highs for the next few days were forecasted into the upper 90s, expected to break records in several locations.

What more could possibly be done? I took the advice to have calm, normal-toned conversations in the yard to hopefully give Gypsy a familiar indication of where she lives. We had all of the equipment in place to lure and catch her and finally end the nightmare; I had to maintain hope that if she were still alive, it could all be resolved that very night. Living in-between grief and hope is a terrible feeling.

We tried to be patient and believe that the traps would eventually work, and trust that she knew how to stay safe during the day by this point. I knocked on more doors and printed more flyers and tried to function like a normal human as much as I could. As a last-ditch (no pun intended) effort before bed, I went and checked a stormwater intake two doors down. This roughly 12 inch pipe seemed like a perfect kitty hiding spot, and I'd been peering into it with a flashlight at least 5 times per day/night.

This time, she was in the pipe!

We quickly moved one of the raccoon traps to the opening. I felt confident that we'd get her that evening, and be back to our normal lives soon.

That's when I decided to call the Metropolitan Saint Louis Sewer District. I couldn't handle not knowing where the sewers went, and how far Gypsy could be within the system underground, unable to hear us or safely navigate home.

The GIS Manager answered my call, and as I explained that I was a local GIS professional searching for my cat and looking for sewer network data, he entered my address into an internal ArcGIS Web App Builder viewer depicting MSD's assets. He showed me that the storm drain near our house was really her primary entry and exit point, unless she ventured far enough north to where the stormwater lines combine with the sewer lines. From there, Gypsy could theoretically travel to the water treatment plant if she wanted.

This map might look confusing, but if you can picture it without the parcel address number and asset labels, it's a straightforward network. The red lines are for sewage, and the blue hashed lines are for stormwater. Numbered 1-3 in green are storm drains, or curb inlets. The half circle bordering addresses 2437 and 2431 represents the storm intake in the neighbor's yard where I spotted her in the pipe at night. Across the street, the blue circle with a black cross is a drop-in manhole that she wouldn't be able to vertically climb out of. She could only continue Northeast along the dotted blue line.

The skies were darkening and the radar told us heavy rain was imminent. We had to move fast. As Ben and a neighbor started trying to pry up the drain grates nearest the exit point, a crowd began to gather. With the grates off of drain #2, we could block her Eastward access to the more inaccessible parts of the sewer system at drain #3. Another neighbor retrieved cardboard and layered it in the drain to ensure she could absolutely not take that trajectory, turning the T-shaped route with a near-infinite tail, into an L.

More neighbors brought leaf blowers, scrap wood to temporarily cover the removed grates and prevent her from jumping up onto the road, and flashlights. Ben and I stuck our torsos upside-down into the drains to search for her eyes with the flashlight. He then began conducting a sort of "pickle in the middle" dance with underground Gypsy, inserting a leaf blower into the pipes to scare-push her in the desired direction, toward Drain #2 and the exit pipe. The thunder was getting louder and rain drops started to fall.

Another neighbor and close friend ensured a blanket covered the exit pipe so that Gypsy could have no choice but to enter the trap, holding it down on either side with rocks and speaking to her in a calm, friendy voice. Finally, Gypsy was forced into the final straightaway as Ben hurried to block her retreat access toward the dead-end at drain #1, turning the L into a straight line. Drain #2 to raccoon trap. That's all that's left. C'mon, kitty.

It was over. The sky opened, pouring rain on spectators and helpers alike, while we ran inside with the crate to get our aptly-named trouble making Gypsy cat indoors.

Without an understanding of the sewer system thanks to MSD's GIS, fast thinking, and collaboration by neighbors, Gypsy would have been in the stormwater lines as heavy rain filled them, perhaps more rapidly than she could outrun.