Ode to Novi, my sweet tortie girl I lost today
Well, not so much an ode as a heartbroken lament.
I don't have online photos of her, but she was a petite, beautiful, bossy, opinionated tortoiseshell purr-machine.
This hurts so bad. Ten years ago in April of 2005, she showed up at our back door (we already had three cats, two of whom left for the rainbow bridge years ago) asking for food. I fed her every time she came by - she was never feral or shy but always hungry and friendly. After I was able to pet her I detected enlarged nipples, and no sooner had I started worrying about her kittens did she bring them to us one night in May. Three girls. Well, two one night, and then one more by morning (I had set up shelter for her on our enclosed porch but propped the door open in case she needed to fetch more kitties that night).
She was an incredibly loving mommakitty. We kept her and her three kittens; had her spayed as soon as they were weaned, and we started our lives together. Our male Ivan became her protector when she was still nursing, bringing her (to my dismay) slain rabbits and other treats. Ivan got her kittens out of a tree. Ivan was her mate in life and even though he was neutered, he and she were partners (Ivan helped her teach the kittens how to hunt - they didn't need it, being indoor cats, but that was AFTER I saw him and Novi maim a bunny and push the kitten toward it). Ivan now is morose and lost, hiding away in the back rooms.
For 10 years she's been by my side. She had THE most incredible, relaxing trill / purr. I'd be on a business call and if she were on my lap I'd have to explain what that motor was. Usually won over any and all callers.
She wasn't needy, and I feel sad that perhaps she didn't get as much attention as the others who demanded my time and attention. Our family unit until today was Ivan, the three kittens (now 10 years old), and Novi. Novi and I were the mommas, the caretakers, and I feel like she was my friend. I've lost such a good friend. I wish we'd had more time together, and that I'd spent a little more time brushing her (which she looooved).
My husband and I had noticed she was slowing down the past few weeks, and her stomach was rather rotund (though she definitely was carrying a few too many pounds). But she still loved her food, bossed me around, and spend hours watching the world go by outside the windows. She also still played with the feather toy as recently as two weeks ago.
Today, she was slower. Just sort of lying there - not flat-out on her side, but definitely not her usual self. She was just different. She had her breakfast but otherwise was out of sorts. I was able to get her to the vet within 2 hours and an ultrasound showed an almost destroyed liver - spongey and in bad shape with some sort of mass. I hadn't taken her to a vet in years - just had her vaccinated at the local PetCo clinic because she was always so healthy and energetic. The malignancy could have been there for years, slowly growing, or exploded in growth in the last few months.
The vet said she could operate and take biopsies but with Novi's liver in such bad shape, the only thing to really do was extend her life with pain meds and palliative care. I declined. We kept one of our other beloved kitties too long in his illness and I will regret extending his suffering for the rest of my life. So for Novi, today was the last day. I'd have loved to give her some treats and a special grooming session before this was done, but I couldn't fathom bringing her home in her discomfort and then having to go back to do the deed.
So I held her and sobbed like a baby, and then stayed with her until her heart stopped. And I haven't stopped crying yet.
I haven't lost a cat for years (not counting the sweet feral males I've tried to rescue but lost to FIV). She was my feline girlfriend. My mommakitty who gave me such comfort when my own mother died last year. I know this sounds insane, but it almost feels like I lost my mother again. She was a precious, nurturing, sweet soul and I will miss my Novi-kitty forever. I just want this pain to stop.
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I hear you so clearly...and that pain is awful.
I wish I had the words to take it away.
I know it's true when a person dies: the deeper the love, the deeper the grief. I'm sure it's true for your mommakitty too.
Cats are so awesome, and Novi sounds especially so. RIP, Novi.
may there be butterflies to chase, sunbeams to nap in and plenty of cheezburgers to be had on the other side of the bridge.
i can say i know how you're hurting, but i also know that does little to diminish the pain you're feeling.
i am so very sorry for the loss of your friend
This is going to hurt a long time. I'm so sorry.
Torties are special cats. My thoughts will be with you as you walk through your grief. Wish I could offer more.
There are no words to take away the pain of losing your sweet Novi-kitty. You loved her and she loved
you...and it will always be that way, forever.
Hugs to you...and give poor Ivan some extra attention. Our Mouse and Simba kitties were best buddies--brothers--
and when Mouse died, poor old Simba would wander the house, looking in all of Mousie's favorite hiding spots, hoping
to find him.
Its never easy. 
Glad you had each other. A special love.
You are incredibly brave to even try to read responses at this point let alone try to answer individual posts. I hope the pain eases soon but the pain is a testament to the bond the two of you shared.
Peace.
you lost your sweet Novi.
I am happy you were with her at the end. I know how much this hurts so my heart goes out to you, Flaxbee.
You did right by her. You gave her a loving, safe home and you helped her cross the bridge when her time came. We never get to spend as much time with them as we wish we had.
pretending that's her telling me she's OK and frolicking with our other loved-and-lost pets.
She wasn't feeling good, and I know it was the right thing to do. That's the only solace I have at the moment.
My husband and I had wonderful stories about her fascinating life as a theoretical biophysicist. 
When the pain subsides a bit we'll probably keep weaving her story.
I know your pain and miss my Kato (I had her for 20 wonderful years) just reading your story. You're not insane. You're human. Sending you big hugs. 
