The day I first heard Mogwai it was windy and wet. I had almost reached the surgery to begin my shift when I heard a loud prolonged, sad meow. I wasn't sure where it was coming from but, over the next week, I heard the same cry several times. I eventually discovered the cat was on a flat roof nearby and seemed to be left there in all weathers.

One morning I arrived for work in a gale; it was pouring with rain and very cold. For once I got a good view of the cat huddled against a wall, crying. Eight hours later as I left for home she was still there, wet through. I decided to take the bull by the horns and rang the doorbell. I said that I had seen the cat on the roof and was worried about her being left out in all weathers. it was explained that the cat had been left by the previous occupants and that she was unwanted. I was given the cat there and then and we went home together.

As we already had three dogs and three cats I wasn't quite sure what reception I would receive from my husband. I needn't have worried - one look and he was smitten. As the cat poked her head out of the basket my sons proclaimed that she looked like a Mogwai in the film 'Gremlins', and thus she was named.

GETTING USED TO LIFE INDOORS

Mogwai was very hungry, very matted and very loving. We kept her apart from the other animals so that she could acclimatise to life indoors. She was a cream Persian female cat, probably about three years old, with a promise of great beauty.

I took her to work and the veterinary surgeon on duty gave her a thorough check up. Apart from her matted coat and being only half her recommended bodyweight she was healthy. 

Mogwai proved to be extremely friendly and liked nothing better that a lap to sit on and a tickle behind the ears. She spent a week  'isolated' in her room and then, having built up her strength with good food and lots of cuddles, she again went to work with me. The vet gave her an anaesthetic and, to solve the problem of her matted coat, we shaved her completely from head to tail. She looked pathetic, all skin and bone. Her coat came off in one solid piece, like a sheep's fleece. She came around from her anaesthetic, purring, and later in the day I took her home.

Mogwai was, of course, feeling the cold and had to have a heater on her in her room night and day for a few weeks. She gradually filled out and her fur started to regrow. We decided that it was time that she met the other animals and carried her to another part of the house and put her on the floor, where she sniffed about and got used to the different smells and furniture.

One by one, we introduced her fellow companions; she hated the cats on sight and her attitude to them never changed. The dogs, however, were another matter. We have three dogs of varying sizes: Pluto is  Dobermann-sized, Maisie is a collie and Shera is the size of a spaniel. From the first time Mogwai set eyes on them she adored them all. She would rub around their legs, purring or lie on her back in the middle of them with her legs splayed in the air. The dogs were quite bemused and anxious at first - cats shouldn't behave like this, should they? It didn't take long for them to become used to this strange cat in their midst and, eventually, they seemed to enjoy the privilage of being allowed such close contact with a species that normally they would hold in the deepest respect and only watch from a distance.

Mogwai's fur gradually grew back and she was extremely beautiful. If I sat down she immediately jumped on to my lap. She would sit on other people but, from the beginning, she was very much my cat. The first thing she did in the morning when the living room door was opened (she chose to sleep there, thereby keeping her distance from the other cats) was to run upstairs, jump onto the bed and snuggle up to me. She proved to be very playful and would chase pieces of paper and retrieve them. she didn't like to go outside and would only go into the garden if I was with her. I had never owned, or should I say lived with, a Persian before, and was amazed by her devotion to me.

I have a friend, Debby, who is a well known Plymouth artist. One day, she sketched Mogwai and then made a beautiful etching, from which limited edition prints have been sold worldwide. Needless to say, number one has pride of place in our home. Every time I look at it, or a lovely watercolour Debby also gave us of Mogwai, I remember the day she lay sprawled on the sofa posing as if she knew the duties of a model inside out!

TROUBLE BEGINS

About 18 months after she took over my life I noticed two small lumps under Mogwai's skin and a trip to see the vet confirmed my fears that she had mammary tumours. As they were small, I was advised to leave them and check their progress weekly. One month later two more lumps had appeared and the original two were slightly larger, so we decided the tumours should be removed. Tina, my friend and colleague, was the theatre nurse for the day and I had every confidence in her and the veterinary surgeon, Adam, but it did not stop me from pacing the corridor outside the theatre until they announced that the operation was finished and that Mogwai was coming round. She slowly regained consciousness and her purr was soon resounding around the ward where she was recovering. I took her home that evening and we kept her away from the other animals so that she could have some peace and quiet and not get accidentally knocked. She made a very rapid recovery and had her sutures removed 10 days later. The laboratory report confirmed that the tumours were mammary carcinomas; this meant that they were cancerous, but the outlook was fair as they had been removed.

A happy seven months passed until one day, while stroking her, I felt two new lumps. Again, we monitored the speed of the growth of the tumours. As before, only two months later there were another two and the original two were larger. It was decided that radical surgery was the best course of action; after all, she was only five years old and should have many years left to enjoy life.

It was decided that she should have a complete mammary strip, which would mean removing all her mammary glands on the side effected by the lumps. This was an operation that had to be performed at the veterinary hospital rather than the branch that I worked at. Adam decided that she should have a routine X-ray of her chest before he began operating to make sure that the tumours had not spread. Later that morning he rang me. he had bad news. Mogwai had a lump in her chest that was inoperable. we decided not to put her through any more surgery and he let her wake up from her anaesthetic.

By this time it was October and she was still a happy, contented cat. However, further symptoms developed, her breathing became laboured and she did not want to eat. Another X-ray revealed that the mass in her chest had grown and was making her sternum crumble. By now she was in pain and we couldn't pick her up without hurting her. She spent most of her time in her favourite cardboard box. She could and would still purr loudly, and she enjoyed eating small amounts of chicken if we hand-fed her. She loved being stroked and being made a fuss of, but life was becoming difficult.

A SAD GOODBYE

Two days after Christmas, Neil, another vet and a good friend, kindly came to our house and gently put Mogwai to sleep. she didn't have to leave her favourite box and now she was at peace.

Mogwai only lived with us for two years, but made a great impact on our lives. Now, a few years later, we have seven cats, but Mogwai is still missed. We remember her with love and happiness, tinged with sadness for such a short life. She brought to us a great sense of fun, loving and contentment, and we are very glad that we had the opportunity to share those two years with her.

Jane Walker, VN

By kind permission of:

You & Your Vet Magazine and the BVA Animal Welfare Foundation.

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