Justice For Hunni

Sign the petition here

By Saira K

'' We met our little angel on the 22nd of December 2019. She was just one month old. We adopted her and brought her to her forever home on the 17th of January 2020, not far from where she was born, in a small village in Surrey.

What stood out when we met her was the beautiful golden colour of her fur on her head. That is how we chose her name, Hunni, a name that would stay with us for the rest of our lives. Her "legal name" is Princess Hunni. I loved to hear the vets call her by this name.

She grew up alongside her older brother Oreo, whom we had adopted in March 2019. From the very beginning, she brought warmth, mischief, and so much love into our home.

Hunni was adventurous from the very start. Even as a kitten, she was always eager to explore the outdoors. We would take her into the garden under supervision, sunbathing together while she sat on my lap purring contentedly.

If she ever sensed an opportunity, though, she would take it. She once escaped through a small hole in the garden fence and was quickly found a few houses away in a neighbour’s garden. She always seemed to have a plan of her own. That was when we started calling her “Missy”!

Hunni was an indoor cat while we were in Surrey, and she began roaming outdoors when we moved to a cul de sac in West London at the end of 2021. The outdoors was her happy place. I always felt protective of her and loved having her close, indoors and supervised in the garden. I would listen out for her, and when I saw her walking towards the front door, I’d rush to let her back in. At the same time, it was clear how much she loved being outside, especially when she needed a break from her babies! Hunni was curious, confident, and made for exploring since she was a kitten. Every decision about her was made from love, and she lived her life doing what made her happiest.

When we adopted her, we were told her favourite food was Coshida, and we continued buying this brand for her. To this day, we still buy the same food for Oreo and for Hunni’s babies, Charcoal and Gingerbread, who will be turning four in April 2026. We used to specially buy her the Coshida freeze-dried treats, and now we get them for our cats and for other cats too. It’s a small way of remembering her.

She absolutely loved the laser toy, zigzagging across the floor and leaping up walls in pursuit of that little red dot. She gave the strongest head boops, always rubbing her face against your hand, a habit her babies have inherited.

There was a special spot in my room just for her, where I placed a plush animal foot warmer that she slept on as a kitten. Later, her own kittens slept on it together. It is something I will always cherish. She also loved climbing to high places, the top of my wardrobe, the kitchen cabinets, always wanting the best view. Again, a trait her babies share.

Hunni was not just defined by how her life ended, but by how she lived too. She had a personality, preferences, relationships, and a family. She mattered.

The day we lost her..

Hunni’s life ended tragically when she was hit by a car on Sunday, 15th of December 2024. On the 17th of December, a man who had seen her after the incident contacted me after coming across my poster online. He showed us where he had seen her at 12:45 p.m. that day. All that remained was her blood. We did not find her body.

The man told us that someone had placed her against a wall after she was hit. “She looked like she was sleeping,” he said. He mentioned her collar, pink + black, still on her. That was the main confirmation we needed that it was sadly our Hunni. He decided against taking her home with him to bury her.

While showing me the spot, someone passed by and asked what happened. I explained what had happened to my cat and pleaded with them in tears, saying if they ever come across a deceased or injured cat, please don’t leave them there. Call for help or take them to a vet if you can. I shared this with the man who found Hunni as well. He told us he considered taking her home to bury her, but decided against it in case someone was looking for her. In hindsight, I wish he had, but I am grateful for his effort and showing empathy at a time where it was rare to find. Because of Hunni’s story, he is now more aware of what to do if he ever finds an injured or deceased cat, and that is the kind of awareness I hope to continue raising at every opportunity.

Alongside the shock and upset came a wave of regret that will always follow me. Hunni was killed just metres from the entrance to the cul de sac where we currently live. I had searched everywhere except the place she had been lying.

That day, Hunni had left for her usual stroll through our cul de sac. We started to worry when she hadn't returned after two hours. I spent hours looking for her, walking from road to road, knocking door to door, unaware that she was already gone, and that I was searching in all the wrong places. I was out on my bike around the time the man who contacted us on 17th December said he had seen her. I will always wonder how long after I cycled past she was hit. I will always regret not turning left instead of right when searching for her that day. How could I not have seen her or thought of checking the other side of that road?

That night and the hours that followed felt unreal. I couldn't stop crying for her. I left the garden light on all evening and night for her until the day I found out what happened. Keeping the lights on was my way of sending her a message that we are home, and we are waiting for you, Hunni.

The experience has left a lasting impact on me. Even now, looking back at photos of Hunni and especially the last ones I took, feels unbearably painful. Simple reminders of that day, like the alarm ringtone I used to wake up at 4 a.m. to search the local area, I avoid using. I rarely go out in the neighbourhood, because the memories are too vivid. The sounds, that road, the places I once searched, they all bring me back to that moment of loss. Living with that grief has changed how I navigate my daily life, and it reminds me of just how deeply she touched our hearts.

We have been living in the area for just four years; it never truly felt like home. Being outside in the middle of the night, calling for Hunni on roads we had never stepped foot on before, though it was our own neighbourhood, felt unnatural and disorientating. That sense of not belonging, of searching in a place that no longer felt safe or familiar, has never left me. I know there are kind people everywhere, and many who care deeply about animals, but Hunni was not lucky that day. The contrast between where we once lived and where we live now has only deepened the sense of loss and disconnection I feel.

When I went door knocking in my search for her before I found out what happened, I spoke to my neighbours, I laughed to hide my pain, telling them, “I’m definitely getting a tracker for her when she’s back!” Deep down, I just wanted her home and to never let her out of my sight again. Not all cats can stay indoors though, you see. If you knew Hunni, you’d know how much she loved the outdoors, further than just the garden where she would often retreat from our other cats. She was our only cat who was outdoors.

When I found out what had happened, I felt shock, devastation, anger, and deep hurt. In desperation, and searching for any answers and compassion, I posted about Hunni in a local Facebook group. I hoped someone might have information. Many people showed the kind of empathy and compassion we all deserve when faced with a loss. But some people came to criticise and insult me and Hunni. I will never apologise for how I expressed my grief, and no one else should either. I was traumatised, and some of the responses I received only deepened the wound.

I'll never forget seeing Hunni curled up beside the pillow, slowly looking up at me one last time with her sleepy little face, the night before her life was taken. It deeply hurts just thinking about that moment.

To the driver: I want you to know that on that day both myself and Hunni died. But only one of us stopped breathing. Her loss has changed my life forever. I do not know if you were speeding. I do not know if Hunni appeared suddenly. Only you know what exactly happened. Did you hear a “thud” against your car? That was a beloved family member with a name, a home, and people waiting for her to return. If you had stopped, you would have known whether Hunni was still alive. If she was, she was left alone, injured and in pain, without a familiar face by her side. We never got to say goodbye. We never got to hold her one last time.

I would not have shouted at you. I would not have blamed you. I just needed you to stop. To not leave Hunni alone. To call for help if you could not take her to a vet. To know that she had a family who loved her and was desperately searching for her. We were left without closure, without answers as to where her body went.

Within a year, we lost three loved ones, each six months apart. The loss of Hunni whilst already living with that grief was something we could not bear and something that will stay with us forever.

There is an empty space on the bed where Hunni should have been. A silence where the jingle of her collar and her soft, healing purrs once filled our nights.

When you are behind the wheel, you are responsible not only for yourself and your passengers, but for everyone you share the road with. There may not be a law requiring you to stop for a cat, but doing the right thing should not require a law.

Pets are family too. They are living, feeling beings with personalities, routines, and deep bonds. Too many cats are left injured or killed on our roads, their lives and deaths often dismissed, and their families left grieving without acknowledgement or closure. Cats Matter exists because of this silence. It was created by people who loved their cats and refused to accept that they did not matter like every other loss does. By sharing Hunni’s story, I hope to honour her, and every cat who did not make it home, and every family who was left waiting. No cat should be forgotten, and no one should have to grieve alone.

Losing Hunni has been deeply traumatic, not only because of how suddenly and painfully she was taken, but also because of how isolating pet grief can be. I learned that not everyone knows how to show up for this kind of loss, even those closest to us. I still struggle with this realisation, but I can say that what carried me through some of the darkest moments was the kindness of strangers. People online who had never met Hunni, or me, offered compassion, understanding, and words that made me feel seen (and cry buckets of tears). That kindness mattered more than they will ever know. I hope that by sharing stories like Hunni's, we can create more understanding, more gentleness, and more space for pet grief to be acknowledged with the same care and respect as any other loss.

I have created a petition calling for change. I know there are many similar petitions and many heartbreaking stories like hers. But putting a face to a name matters. Hunni was deeply loved, and I want her story, alongside the stories of so many other cats, to be heard and remembered. Please take a moment to sign and share.

Sign the Petition HERE

In loving memory of our sweet angel, Princess Hunni (19th November 2019 - 15th December 2024)

We will never forget you.''