In a departure from my usual work-related blogs, I thought I’d write about something more personal this time: Mittens, my (almost) 15 year old tortoiseshell female cat. Why? Because she’s such an interesting character and, believe it or not, did actually cheat death when she was eight years old. But let’s start at the beginning.
Mittens was born in Beeston Rylands, Nottingham in summer 2009, one of a litter of six born to a friend’s cat called Bug. Before long, five kittens had been rehomed with only Mittens still to find new parents. After seeing a post on Facebook, my then-husband and I decided to adopt her and duly collected her from Beeston a few days later.
From the start, Mittens made her personality as a ‘naughty tortie’ known. We’d recently adopted a rescue dog, Tilly, a one year old Staffie cross who was just starting to come out of her shell. The first thing the eight week old, tiny Mittens did was fluff out her very small tail and hiss. Tilly immediately retreated into her cage – and Mittens’ role as head honcho was established.
At the time, we had two other, quite elderly, cats who didn’t exactly take to Mittens as she wanted to play and tended to tease them. Kitty usually ran away, whilst Tiger would give Mittens a good bonk on the head with her paw, which normally sorted her out.
Tilly and Mittens, in the meantime, became firm friends and she spent an increasing amount of time cuddling up with her in the dog’s cage. We thought this was very cute – until we realised she was causing the then-unspayed Tilly to make milk. Cue a visit to the vets and an £80 bill for anti-lactating drugs.
Mittens’ naughtiness continued as she grew up. From biting me on the stomach whilst I was sitting on the sofa to running up the photographer’s trouser leg when she came around to take some pet photos, she was a little devil, if entertaining. What was very interesting was that, even though none of her siblings lived together, they all seemed to do things at the same times, like starting to climb trees and onto sheds and, regrettably, weeing on beds!
By the time Mittens was seven months old, she was the size of the average male cat. She continued to grow apace and, to this day, is one of the largest female cats I’ve ever seen who isn’t a Maine Coone. She also became something of a bully, beating up other cats and generally causing mayhem. Unfortunately, she extended her activities to attacking people – often whilst sitting ‘innocently’ on the wall over the road – and gained something of a reputation in the village.
So things continued for several years, during which time Kitty and Tiger sadly passed away and we acquired two rescue kittens, Willow and Angus. Mittens wasn’t at all pleased and spent much of her time outside, although she eventually got used to them. After Willow was tragically run over at 11 months, she started to bond with Angus much more and we realised that she simply didn’t like other female cats.
In 2015, when Mittens was six and Angus two, we moved from Ruddington to Beeston Rylands – the place where Mittens was born (that’s not why we moved though!) One of the first cats we saw on our street was almost identical to Mittens and, I suspect, probably related. Mittens settled very well in Beeston, although the smaller Angus had a slightly harder time with other cats; Mittens, however, defended him which was good to see.
Two years later, my marriage broke up. Somewhat distracted at the time, I didn’t notice I hadn’t seen Mittens for several days (we had a cat flap so she came and went as she chose). I couldn’t find her anywhere. A few hours later, I spotted her walking across the lawn and ran out to bring her in. I plonked her down in front of the food bowl, expecting her to be hungry (she’s usually ALWAYS hungry) but she wouldn’t eat.
Worried, I locked the cat flap and rang the vet. She had a vaccination appointment in two days’ time anyway, but I wanted to see what they thought. Their response to the news that she wasn’t eating was alarming: “Bring her in NOW.” So, into the cat carrier and the car she went.
On arrival, our amazing vet, Vegard, immediately diagnosed jaundice and whisked her away for a blood test. I then took her home and anxiously awaited the results. Whilst working in-house with a client two days later, Vegard rang. Mittens had an incurable liver condition, which was terminal, and the only option was palliative care. We returned to the vets for medication and advice about special hepatic food.
A few weeks later, I moved out of the ex-marital home and took Mittens and Angus (but not the dog, sadly) with me. Mittens was traumatised by the journey and wet the cat carrier, but soon settled into the new house. Angus seemed happier, too, as it was a quieter area than Beeston and he felt more secure going outside. The two of them continued to get on very well, snuggling up on the bed together and having very amusing play fights, like the one pictured above.
After quite a while, we gradually weaned Mittens off the hepatic food (which Angus kept stealing anyway) and stopped her medication as she seemed OK. Taking her back to see Vegard, he was surprised to see she was absolutely fine, with no symptoms. Another blood test showed the liver condition had simply gone away.
How did she do it? I’ll never know. But I do know she is one remarkable cat who, if Vegard’s predictions had come true, would have died several years ago. One thing that did change, though, was her personality. This feisty, even vicious, cat who scratched and bit everyone in sight (including Vegard) was no more. She was suddenly affectionate, always purring and rolling over and, unlike ever before, wanting to be picked up and cuddled. And when we lost my beloved Angus to a saddle thrombus (blood clot) in 2021, she genuinely grieved.
So it’s been ever since. OK, there’s the odd bite and scratch – especially recently when she was on steroids for a minor skin allergy – but nothing like the old days when we had to warn people not to touch her. It’s an incredible, but very welcome, transformation. And, despite some age-related weakness in her back legs, she’s still in the absolute pink of health as she approaches her 15th birthday in July.
As I said earlier, a truly remarkable and death-defying cat. I wouldn’t have her any other way.
