Hoarding Isn’t Just About Humans. It’s About their Animals.

When most people think of hoarding, they think of teetering piles of junk and television crews poking through broken furniture. What rarely gets airtime is the reality for animals caught in these situations—trapped, breeding, and often dying in invisible pockets of neglect, all while someone insists they’re “rescuing” them.

A new study out of New York City takes us beyond the tabloid spectacle and into the real-world complexities of animal hoarding—and how simple interventions like spay and neuter programs can stop this quiet disaster from spiralling out of control.

Three Types of Hoarders. All of Them Dangerous to Animals.

The researchers examined 79 cat-hoarding cases between 2011 and 2023, focusing on situations where the people involved weren’t prosecuted but instead received support through ASPCA’s Community Engagement team. This wasn’t about punishment—it was about trying to get a handle on the root of the problem.

Three behavioural profiles emerged:

1️⃣ Overwhelmed caregivers: People who genuinely care, but who are living in poverty, ill health, or chaos. 70% of the cases fit this category.

2️⃣ Rescue hoarders: People who believe they’re saving animals but can’t—or won’t—recognise the suffering they’re enabling.

3️⃣ Exploiter hoarders: People who hoard animals the same way they’d hoard tools or trophies. None were identified in this sample, but they exist.

Let’s be clear: good intentions don’t keep animals safe. Cats still starve. Kittens still drown in faeces. And the line between well-meaning and negligent is a bloodied blur when no vet has set foot in the house for years.

The Missing Piece: Access to Vet Care

It’s not that most people in these cases didn’t want help. Nearly 9 in 10 were open to spay/neuter services. Over three-quarters were open to giving up some of the cats. The problem wasn’t stubbornness. It was access.

These aren’t people living in leafy suburbs with four-figure pet insurance. Over 78% lived in New York’s most socially vulnerable boroughs—Kings, Queens, the Bronx. 43% had a physical or mental disability. In most cases, the people were just as trapped as the cats.

The study found that 67% of interventions led to positive outcomes: either the person was left with a manageable number of cats, or all were removed. That’s not just a win for the animals—it’s a win for mental health, housing safety, and public sanitation.

Hoarding Is a Community Issue

One of the most revealing stats? A quarter of all referrals came from neighbours.

That tells us two things:

1. Hoarding doesn’t happen in a vacuum.

2. People do notice—but they need somewhere to turn that won’t escalate things into punishment and removal unless absolutely necessary.

When support systems are available, people use them. When they’re not, the same story plays out: another flat filled with sick cats, a person further isolated, a quiet crisis nobody wants to touch.

The Right Kind of Intervention

This isn’t about patting hoarders on the back. It’s about recognising that if we want to protect animals, we need more than rescue missions. We need infrastructure.

Spay/neuter programs aren’t some soft “harm reduction” approach—they’re strategic, effective, and preventative. 58% of people who initially failed to reduce their animal numbers eventually came back asking for help. That’s not failure—that’s a second chance.

And that’s the point.

Companion animals need us to stop letting them be born into filth, starvation, and isolation under the guise of “love.” If a hoarder has 20 cats, spaying 18 of them will do more than a moral lecture ever could.

What Now?

This study confirms what many on the ground have known for years: punitive models fail. Accessible veterinary care, community support, and non-judgemental intervention work. They reduce suffering. They save lives.

Animal hoarding isn’t a quirk. It’s a form of captivity.

And if we’re serious about abolition, that includes the living rooms where dozens of animals silently disappear.