Millie turns 20: the real cat that inspired the character
BY JAMES NOBLE
There was no time in my childhood in which there wasn’t at least one cat in my family’s house. My original draft of this article spent almost a thousand words covering the first four that I can remember—but once it was done, we felt the article was running just a little too long, so we trimmed that section* and rewrote the beginning. Instead, we will begin in the winter of 2004/2005, when my family adopted a new kitten, born on the 29th of November (which meant that she shared a birthday with my dad!).
[*I might write a separate article called “My First Four Cats,” if any readers would be interested in that!]
We gave her the name Millie, her full name being Millie Wall, as a playful reference to our local football (soccer) club, Millwall F.C., and I’m fairly sure it was my mother—the most strident and partisan Millwall fan in the family—who came up with it. (Some trivia for you: Millwall’s nickname is “The Lions”—sometimes it feels like literally everything significant in my life is somehow cat-themed!)
As I mentioned, there were four cats in the house before Millie that I remember (and at least one that we’d adopted while I myself was a baby and toddler that I now sadly don’t), and my parents and siblings and I had unique relationships with each of them—which means, I’m reluctant to point to one and say s/he was my favorite. But it is true that my bond with Millie is perhaps the most unique, because Millie was not just a pet cat.… For a time, she was also my roommate.
Let me explain.…
A little over a decade ago, I was admitted to King’s College Hospital in London, to undergo a craniotomy to remove a brain tumor. The surgery was a success, and I was discharged to recover at my family’s house for six to eight weeks, but I was not the only member of the family “in the wars” during this time.
One day, while I was convalescing in bed, the door to my room was pushed open. A moment later, I saw Millie walk quickly, but awkwardly, across the room and hide under my desk. I was instantly on alert because I had never seen her do this before. I shuffled out of bed and went over to her, crouching down and asking her what was wrong, as if she were going to reply… but don’t we all
talk to our pets?). I reached out and gently stroked along her neck and down to her forepaw, prompting her to give the most pitiful yowl I’ve ever heard (just the memory of it now, so many years later, upsets me to think about—especially as it was only when touched that she cried, even though she must have been in agony). It was obvious that something was wrong with her foreleg, and an emergency trip to the vet confirmed that she had suffered an injury that we were told was very, very rare.
Millie had somehow managed to completely dislocate her forepaw and would need to undergo an operation to repair it. Within a few days, she and I were sharing a bedroom—me on “bed rest” and Millie on “cage rest.” She did not take to this new set-up all that well at first, so accustomed was she to roaming the backyard and beyond (even now, at twenty Two-leg years of age, she will deliberately wake up family members to let her outside…always at around 4 a.m.!). I can remember her sudden alertness and her “I’m-not-doing-anything-I-am-just-looking-at-something” attitude whenever we opened the cage door to change her food and water, or her litter-tray…
Ah, yes, the litter tray. During this period, I learned that if the stench of an injured kittypet making dirt in the middle of the night didn’t wake you up, then the sound of that injured kittypet banging her cast against a metal cage wall while trying to cover said dirt definitely would!
I forget now exactly how long it was before her cast came off, but it was a fair few weeks, for sure. The time after the cast’s removal was actually quite tense because, at first, Millie refused to put weight on her injured paw and held her foreleg close to her chest. The vet informed us that, if she did not start putting weight on the leg, it would atrophy to the point of requiring amputation. But thankfully, Millie soon started putting weight on the limb, and she eventually began walking and running and jumping like normal! (There were many sighs of relief in the house!)
This wasn’t the only serious health issue Millie would endure and overcome, like the real-life warrior cat that she is. Around two years ago, my mother observed from Millie’s behavior that she appeared to have gone blind. Another trip to the vet confirmed that she was indeed visually impaired and, judging by the blood pressure issue that tests revealed, she likely had been for some time. She was prescribed medication that corrected the issue, and restored her sight, but I remember marveling at how, thanks to her familiarity with our house, and the strength of her feline instincts, her visual impairment was not immediately apparent. For contrast, Millie’s “little brother,” Buller (the family’s Staffordshire bull terrier), went blind when he was around eleven years old, and it was pretty much instantly apparent when he did. Where Buller had suddenly started bumping into things around the house, Millie seemed to moved with much the same confidence as always, and it was only her lack of response to our hand gestures that told us something was up.
A quick note on Millie and Buller’s relationship, before I wrap up what I am aware is a longer-than-usual article: Millie was absolutely not impressed when one of my younger brothers brought home a staffie pup, with whom the whole family instantly fell in love. And because it wasn’t long before the tiny pup became significantly larger than her, there was a rather long period in which they had to be kept apart, in the form of a door placed at the bottom of the stairs, allowing Millie an escape to higher ground if she ever felt she needed it. Obviously, Buller harbored no aggressive intentions toward her (in truth, he often seemed a little intimidated by Millie, which was hilarious when you consider how he would never back down in the face of bigger, stronger, more aggressive dogs in the park!), but Millie was taking no chances in those early days. She soon realized that she was the elder sibling, though, and asserted herself over Buller in various ways. Over time, they developed a rapport that enabled them to move about in the same space without incident, and eventually they reached a point where they could fall asleep on the same sofa.
I do hope readers have found it interesting to hear some biographical details of the real-life kittypet for whom a Warriors character is named. In putting this together, I thought it was only right to reach out to my dear colleague and friend, Victoria Holmes, to ask if she had any memories of creating the fictional version of Millie, and true to form, Victoria went above and beyond and crafted a most lovely reflection, which I am including here.
Vicky speaks: Millie in ThunderClan
“Sorry, I don’t put real cats into Warriors.”
“Your cat is lovely, but I make up my own characters, thank you.”
“Yes, she has a great name, and I can see that she’s full of personality, but no, she won’t be going into a story.”
I have lost count of how many times I have had to explain to people that however adorable/brave/fierce their kitty is, I create all my characters from scratch when it comes to the Warriors stories. It’s the same with my books that feature humans: I would never include a real person simply because it would feel weird, and I would worry about getting something wrong.
But when my colleague and friend James announced that he had acquired a kitten called Millie, something felt different. Millie was destined to have a role in the Warriors series. And not just any role, but Graystripe’s new mate, the one cat who could win his affections after his tragic romance with Silverstream.
To be honest, the exact reason why I decided to use real-life Millie is lost in the mists of time—unsurprisingly, given that Millie is about to turn TWENTY, bless her. It must have had something to do with the fact that James gave me updates about her every day, reveling in her feisty, bold nature, and her determination to rule the household, even bossing around the new puppy, Buller. Millie sounded utterly fabulous, the perfect foil for my beloved Graystripe.
She also had the good fortune to arrive when I was planning the manga trilogy featuring Graystripe’s abduction by Two-legs. I knew that it would be deeply traumatic for Graystripe to be snatched from the forest and forced to live as a kittypet, but I also wanted to make it clear that the life of a kittypet is not the worst thing that can happen to a cat. Domesticated cats can live blissfully, adored by their humans and given plenty of opportunities for activity and entertainment.
It seemed logical to demonstrate this in the story by introducing a kittypet who wasn’t at all wretched and repressed, but who had all the character and fire we would expect from a Clan-born cat. A kittypet who would become a true friend to Graystripe, helping him deal with the trauma of being taken from the forest and ultimately finding a way to get him back to the Clans. An adventurer, brave and curious, with enough sass to keep up with Graystripe’s energy and humor.
James had presented me with the perfect cat to save Graystripe, to return him to ThunderClan, and to mend his broken heart. I have never met the real Millie, but I have given her adventures beyond her wildest dreams, and she will always have a place in my heart. Thank you, James, and happy twentieth birthday, Millie! May StarClan light your path, always.
