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Eric, Mika, and Nico

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a heavy course load in chemistry, caused Eric to spiral into depression. Sometimes it got so bad he became suicidal.

 

He was put on two different antidepressants by his psychiatrist. And his dosage kept getting raised when the drugs weren’t delivering the results they’d hoped for. After a while, Eric started looking into other options. “I didn’t want to keep being numbed,” he says.

 

He decided to go to the emergency room—a decision he quickly regretted. Because he mentioned that he had been suicidal, they took him to a psychiatric ward. As if the confinement wasn’t stressful enough, he felt that the ER physicians were unsympathetic to his problems and request. “All I wanted was a second opinion,” he says, “and I left with the exact same treatment plan that I came in with.”

 

He ended up throwing away all his medication when he got home.

 

That’s when he got Nico and Mika. He realized that he had gone without pets for too long, and he needed them to help maintain his emotional and mental well-being. Luckily, his apartment at the time allowed pets, so he had no issues bringing the cats home.

 

“I’ve always been a huge proponent of having animals—they’re good energy, they don’t talk back, and they love you no matter what,” Eric says. “I think college students in particular, being away from home for the first time, could use a pet for emotional support. Depression is a real problem,” he says. “Almost every college student I know has been depressed.”

 

After two years at UCLA, shortly after he got Nico and Mika, Eric dropped out. For a year he ran a successful dog-boarding business out of his apartment to support himself.

 

Then he came to UCSB to continue his education in chemistry. He had trouble finding housing in Isla Vista—let alone housing that allowed pets.

 

He ended up moving into an apartment with a no-pet policy, and received a $500 fine when the landlord discovered Nico and Mika. He soon realized that he needed to consult a mental health professional to officially prescribe Nico and Mika as his emotional support animals to justify his need for pets. 

Eric's ESA letter
Nico
Mika

The cats, Nico (a Lilac Point Siamese) and Mika (a Seal Point Siamese), belong to Eric Curry, a former UCLA and UCSB student and aspiring veterinarian. As someone who’s grown up with animals and now runs his own petsitting business, Eric couldn’t imagine his life without pets.

 

But Nico and Mika aren’t just his pets; they’re his emotional support animals.

 

Eric struggles with crippling depression and relies on his cats to help get him through dark times and revive his spirit. They’re his support system.

 

When he left his home in the Bay Area to attend UCLA, he no longer had contact with his family was forced to support himself financially. These factors, combined with 

Eric saw a psychologist at UCSB’s Counseling and Psychological Services (CAPS), who wrote an official letter verifying his mental health disability and the role his cats play in alleviating his symptoms and aiding his ability to function. The letter requests the landlord (and any future landlords) to accommodate his need for animal companionship.


After graduating from UCSB, Eric needed somewhere else to live. Again, the search wasn’t easy. Rent in Isla Vista rises by the year, and the overpopulation of students makes it hard to find

any available spots. And most living arrangements entail sharing a room or apartment with others. “You’re caught in this dilemma of, ‘I have the paperwork so if I need to I can live anywhere, but do I want to impose that on my roommates?’” Eric says.

 

Eventually he found one spot available at the Sweeps Apartments. Not only is it pet-friendly, but his roommates were okay with Eric having cats.

 

Nico and Mika have really lived up to their roles as emotional support animals, Eric says. His depression had been severe throughout college, but reached new depths when going through a bad breakup that ended a three-year relationship.

“They both knew I wasn’t okay,” he says. “They started sleeping right next to me, up against me, because they knew I was used to having another body there and needed to be comforted.”

 

At times, Eric felt suicidal.

 

“One night it had gotten so bad that I was looking up ways to kill myself,” he says. “And I just remember Mika coming up and she sat right on the keyboard and wouldn’t let me look at the screen anymore. She wouldn’t budge and just looked at me. I almost started crying.”

 

Mika helped him change his mind. And afterward, she stayed by his side and followed him everywhere. “They just know when something’s wrong,” Eric says.

Even if renting is an inconvenience, Eric finds comfort in knowing his reliance on Nico and Mika is protected under the law.

 

Eric picks up Nico from his lap and cradles him like a baby. Mika sits on the chair across from them, looking on.

 

“These two do more for me than any person or medication could,” he says. “I still struggle sometimes, but having them here with me makes all the difference in the world.”

Nico

Mika

It’s a quiet Friday morning at the Sweeps Apartments in sunny Isla Vista, a quaint apartment complex popular among UCSB students.

 

Peeping through some blinds are two furry faced felines with bright blue eyes. Their triangular faces, big ears, and point coloration are exotic; their expressions, curious. Colored oppositely like night and day, they investigate their outside world.

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