Goodbye, Niko | 4 years and 5 months spent with her

🐾 Encounters and Farewells

My beloved cat, Niko, has passed away. Estimated age: 5.
The cat glasses icon is modeled after Niko.
(The glasses are AI-generated)
It had only been 4 years and 5 months since we started living together.

Niko, who was a rescue cat, came to our home in February 2022.
After my black cat of 13 years passed away suddenly, I was struck by more pet loss than I expected, and thinking,
"I'm going to lose my mind if I stay like this," I looked for a new family member.
At that time, Niko was the one being offered for adoption as a rescue cat on a certain website.

A mischievous, gluttonous, and clingy queen.
Yet, she wouldn't answer when called, instead silently moving her tail.
Until shortly before she passed away, she would give her tail a little thump when I called her name.

I welcomed Niko to fill the void left by my black cat, but
she was a tomboy queen, completely different from her gentle, elderly predecessor.

🐾 The Queen's Cat Punch is a Reward

For a cat owner, a cat punch is a reward.
The day after she arrived, with a face that said "I've been here the whole time, haven't I?" she sank her claws into everything, jumped onto high places, and ran all over the room.
The solid wood floor of our two-year-old house was covered in scratches in no time.

If anyone stood in the kitchen, she would always jump onto the counter.
If a family member passing by paid attention to her, she would silently unleash a barrage of cat punches.
My son would even lower his head on purpose, happy to be swatted.

When I would ruffle and pet Niko while she lay on the floor, she would kick back with her hind legs.
This "deadly kick" was also a reward for me.

When I approached her after washing my face and applying moisturizer,
she would lick the skin I had just taken care of with a rough, raspy sensation.
It was both pleasant and unpleasant, and I'd have to redo my skincare.

She would vomit everywhere, even in her own bed.
She had a habit of regurgitating, and cleaning up was hard work.
Now, all of that was a happy struggle.

🐾 Sudden Onset, Forced Decisions

It happened suddenly.
On Wednesday night, my husband was on the night shift. That day, my son was also away on a school trip.

Niko collapsed on the floor, arching her body as if lifting her lower back.

Is she playing around?

Since it was a movement I had never seen before, I started recording a video with my smartphone.

But something felt wrong.
This wasn't her playing around.

She can't put any strength into her hind legs!

I realized she couldn't stand up.

She, who rarely meowed, let out a wail, a wail.

Then, she desperately crawled to the entrance using only her front legs and hid behind the shoe cabinet.

I messaged my husband on the night shift and called the emergency animal hospital.
When I explained the situation, they told me to bring her in as soon as possible.

When we arrived at the hospital, she was taken to the examination room first, skipping the line.
Meow, meowHer cries echoed into the waiting room, and my heart tightened.


The test results diagnosed her with arterial thromboembolism due to hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.
Emergency treatment saved her life and eased her pain, but
they said the situation remains critical.
My mind went blank.
She was running around the living room until yesterday, so how could she have heart disease?
I always made sure she had her annual vaccinations and simple health checks,
but I never imagined she had a heart condition. And she is still a young cat.

When I asked if her heart and hind leg function would improve with treatment and rehabilitation,
the young doctor carefully chose his words to explain that fluid was starting to build up in Niko's lungs,
and that her prognosis was severe.

They said her hind legs were cold and they couldn't feel a pulse.
I was also told there was a high possibility that paralysis would remain.

She was to be hospitalized until morning to monitor her condition, but
I was asked to make decisions regarding resuscitation and life-prolonging measures in case of a sudden change.
I couldn't even talk it over with my husband, who was on the night shift, and had to decide on my own.

"If she is going to suffer from forced life support, please let nature take its course."

I never thought the day would come so soon when I would have to say these words myself.

I returned home clutching an empty carrier. I barely slept until morning.

🐾 Let's go home

Dawn broke and my husband returned. I decided to take the day off work.
After a short nap, the two of us went to pick up Niko.

We received the test results and progress report, and headed straight to our regular vet.

The explanation from our regular vet was much the same.
He told us that it would become difficult for her to go to the bathroom on her own from now on,
that her heart, which had suffered the embolism, was already in a terminal state,
and that we should be prepared for a sudden change.

And so, I brought Niko home, now in need of nursing care.
When we arrived home, she crawled out of the carrier and flopped onto the floor.
She must have felt relieved. Her breathing was fast, but she was more relaxed than she had been at the hospital.

I laid out mats and pet sheets on the living room floor and prepared soft towels.
I was worried about pressure sores on her immobile hind legs, but
without any help from us, she would cry while changing her position on her own.

🐾 The final moment

I couldn't take the next day off work, and the children had school.
Every time one of us left the house, Niko would lift her head and look outside.
I was the last one left, and I stayed by her side until the very last minute before I would be late.
Apologizing for leaving her alone, I left the house feeling as if my heart were being torn apart.

My husband came home early in the afternoon.
He sent me a LINE message saying, "I brushed Niko."
He said she purred as if it felt good, and that she had been incontinent.
When he lifted her hind legs to wipe her, she cried out in pain.

I waited for time to pass, and as soon as my shift ended, I rushed out of the workplace.
Since it was the weekend, I would be able to stay with her the whole time.

I hurried home, gently stroking her head and body as I spoke to her.

Niko slept on the mat for a while, but
eventually she began to crawl around restlessly,
moving to the window in the living room and the corners of the room.

After moving several times, she vomited a large amount of undigested food.
It was likely the kibble she had eaten just before her legs stopped moving.
After that, she lay flat on the floor.

Her front paw pads were soaked with sweat.
I trimmed her nails that had started to grow out and used a syringe to give her medicine.
Since it was late at night, I decided to rest in the room on the second floor.
I gently picked her up and laid her on a memory foam cushion,
pressed my forehead against hers, and while stroking her body, I said, "Goodnight."

That was the last time I saw her alive.

Early the next morning, Niko had passed away under the chair where I always sit.

There was still a tiny bit of warmth left in her body.
I apologized for letting her pass away alone and held her in my arms.

I spent time with Niko, who had grown cold, until it was time to take her to the crematorium.
I put her body in a box along with the toys she had worn out from playing too much,
and decorated the area with many flowers. My son, who took the day off from his club activities, helped me.

🐾 Parting Gifts

I slept in on Sunday, but then I cleaned the room from top to bottom.
If I don't keep myself busy, tears just overflow.
When I said to my husband, "Niko must have been happy and felt good having you brush her one last time,"
he turned his back and said, "Ah. Please don't talk about that right now. I can't handle it."

Even after vacuuming, I found Niko's whiskers like I was treasure hunting.
I also found toys she had kicked under things.
I put the whiskers inside a photo frame and placed the toys in front of her photo along with her collar.

I had been so tense since Wednesday night that my shoulders and back were stiff.
Since I would only feel depressed staying at home, I decided to go to hot yoga for the first time in a while.

In the middle of a pose where I lowered my head, I looked at the yoga mat and saw Niko's claw marks.

When I laid the mat out in the living room to stretch,
she would often get on the mat. Those must be the claw marks from that time.

In the heat of the hot yoga studio, tears spilled out along with my sweat.

Even now, when I am alone in the living room,
I feel like I can faintly hear the sound of her collar bell,
and I get the feeling that she is hiding somewhere.

Four years and five months since she came to our home.

Niko lived out the life she was given to the fullest.

Until the day we meet again.

Goodbye, Niko.