In May 2025, we lost Taiko to acute kidney failure. His death was untimely and the journey towards it was devastating, but I do not want that to be the part of his story that speaks the loudest.
I am here to celebrate a unique little soul and recount a few moments from the life of the adorable cat we affectionately named the naughtiest cat in the world.
A very large cat with very definite terms
Taiko was affectionate and extremely cuddly, on his terms only. He was a chilled out boy, again, on his terms. If I wanted to groom him, however, he could transform instantly into a ten foot monster.
He was a big, lanky Maine Coon, a silver cream just like his dad, Thunder. He was stunning. Picking him up was like trying to carry a five year old child: there seemed to be an impossible amount of cat in every direction.
He regularly voiced the typical Maine Coon chirp. He was extremely vocal, and we chatted all the time. We had the most in-depth conversations about...something. Taiko always appeared perfectly sure that we both understood every word.
The bathroom supervisor
One of his many delights was to chill out in the bathroom basin. He would refuse to move and complain bitterly if I attempted to encourage him. The fact that somebody might need to use the basin was neither interesting nor relevant.
Watch Taiko on YouTube
Turn the sound on to hear Taiko’s unmistakable Maine Coon chirp.
He also unravelled toilet paper with great commitment. We got through rolls and rolls with our dear boy around. Sometimes he looked almost sculptural beside his work; at other times he was caught quite literally red-pawed, the paper still between his toes.
The marshmallow incident
One day, we came home and found Taiko resting on the kitchen floor, lolling against the skirting board with one paw outstretched, gently caressing something. He looked at us with his usual expression: Alright?
On closer inspection, his paw was resting on a marshmallow. Surrounding him, and then, as we looked further, spread across the kitchen floor was a sea of sticky, half eaten, licked and chewed marshmallows.
“He had opened the bag with military precision and distributed the evidence throughout the house.”
He had discovered his prize on the kitchen worktop: a brand new, unopened bag. Having successfully breached it, he had spent what must have been a wonderful afternoon batting marshmallows across the floor and into every possible corner. I was finding them for days.
The art of being comfortable
Another favourite place was the laundry basket. Taiko always managed to press the clean washing down until it formed the most sumptuous bed, then settled there for hours, absolutely out cold and snoring.
Life with Taiko was never dull. All the other cats loved him, as did our two dogs: Lucca, a large Berger Picard, and Flynn, an Irish Terrier. One of my sweetest memories is of Taiko climbing into Lucca’s bed, curling up beside her and, once again, falling completely and utterly asleep.
A sudden change
In April 2025, I watched Taiko run upstairs and stop suddenly. He carried on and seemed fine, but over the next day or so I noticed that he was becoming wobbly. His mobility deteriorated very quickly.
A visit to our vet, followed by a referral to a specialist, revealed a bulging disc. Taiko underwent two spinal operations and became paralysed in his back legs. It was utterly devastating.
His quality of life was paramount. The veterinary team believed that he might walk again, but the road could be long. We faced the torture familiar to anyone who has loved an animal through serious illness, trying to understand what was possible, what was kind and what was truly best for him.
Together with our vets, we worked with him every day to help his mobility. An animal physiotherapist came to see him and encouraged movement in his legs. Progress was extremely slow, but gradually he began to show signs that feeling was returning.
On what turned out to be the physiotherapist’s final visit, Taiko stood up. She and I grabbed each other and burst into tears.
“Throughout it all, Taiko remained his happy, chirpy self.”
He dealt with his disability extraordinarily well. His life had changed so much that I spent night after night sleeping on the floor beside him, simply to keep him company.
The hardest kindness
One morning I woke to find Taiko with his head down. As the day progressed, he drank excessively and would not eat. I took him to our vet, who found that his kidneys were struggling.
The next day, a Sunday, he deteriorated. At the emergency vet, blood tests revealed acute kidney failure. After everything he had already endured, and just as his mobility had begun to improve we were faced with the most painful decision of all. This was not a situation from which he could recover, and we let him go peacefully.
Our own vets and the referral team had been extraordinarily supportive throughout his care. Taiko had coped so well and had been improving so beautifully. The outcome felt unbearably cruel. But this is sometimes what nature delivers, and as hard as it was, it was the right decision for him.
Naughtiness forever
Grief can make the final days seem enormous. They were enormous. But Taiko’s life was bigger: full of conversations, cuddles, laundry basket naps, canine friendships, bathroom occupations and impeccably executed household crimes.
I will never forget the naughtiest cat in the world. Long may he be lying in basins and batting sticky marshmallows through eternity.