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 start. She was always eager to explore outside and meowed as loud as she could every day in protest. We would take her into the garden under supervision, and we'd sunbathe together while she'd sit on my lap purring contentedly. If she ever saw an opportunity, though, she'd take it. She once escaped through a small gap under the garden fence and was quickly found a few houses away in a neighbour’s garden. She always had a plan of her own. That was when we started calling her “Missy”!

Hunni was an indoor cat for the first two years of her life. She slowly began roaming outdoors when we moved to a cul-de-sac, at the end of 2021. I always felt protective of her and loved having her close. I would listen out for the sound of her bell collar and rush to let her back in. She was curious, confident, and full of adventure from the beginning. Every decision about her by her human parents was made from love, even if it wasn’t always the same, and she lived her life following her own happiness.

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

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

There was a special spot in my room just for her, where I placed this plush animal foot warmer that she'd nap on as a kitten. Later, her own kittens slept on it together. Once a random Home Bargains buy, now something to cherish forever. Hunni also loved to reach high places like the top of my wardrobe and the kitchen cabinets, always wanting the best view.

Hunni was not defined only 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 the 15th of December 2024. We didn't find out until the 17th of December, when a man who had seen her after the incident contacted me after coming across a poster online. He showed us where he had seen her, at 12:45 p.m. that day. All that remained was her blood. I was hit with a wave of shock, disbelief, and so many emotions at once.

The man said that someone had clearly left Hunni against a wall on the pavement after she was hit. “She looked like she was sleeping”, he said. He mentioned her collar, pink and black, still on her. I think that was the main confirmation for us that it was sadly our Hunni. When we met the man at the spot where he said he saw her, someone stopped and asked what had happened. I explained everything, and pleaded with them with eyes full of tears, that if they ever come across a deceased or injured cat, please don’t leave them there and call for help or take them to a vet if you can. I shared the same with the man who found Hunni. He said he considered taking her home to bury, but decided not to in case someone was looking for her. In hindsight, although not the advised course of action, I wish he did. But I'm grateful for his help and for the empathy he showed at a difficult time.

So, following Hunni’s loss, another person out there became aware of what to do if they find an injured or deceased cat. Taking them to a vet, who will check for a microchip (free of charge), can provide closure that families like ours desperately need and give someone's much-loved pet the dignity that every other being deserves in loss. Although Hunni was microchipped, sadly we were still unable to get the closure that should have come with that, which highlights the need for clearer guidance and stronger systems around what to do when a cat is found.

Alongside the shock and upset of the loss *and* lack of closure came a wave of regret that will always follow me. What happened to Hunni, happened just metres from the entrance to our road, yet I was unaware.

That day, Hunni had gone out for her usual stroll through our cul-de-sac. We began to worry when she hadn’t returned after two hours. I spent the next few hours searching for her, walking from road to road and 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 same time the man who contacted us on 17 December later said he had seen her. I will always wonder how long after I cycled past she was hit. How could I not have seen her? Why didn’t I think to check in the opposite direction? Looking back, there were so many moments that day that now feel like cruel coincidences. One being that morning, while cycling along that same road, another cat ran across from the same side Hunni would've been on.

My mind is still filled with all sorts of questions and speculation about that day. I know it doesn’t change anything, but it’s my mind trying to fill the gaps left by the lack of closure.

I remember when I spoke to one of my neighbours, and as I laughed to hide my pain I said, “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. Little did I know, she was gone. That night and the hours that followed felt unreal. I cried like I had never before. I left all of the outdoor lights on all evening and night for her until the day we found out about her. Keeping the lights on was my way of sending a message, that we are home and waiting for you, Hunni.

After we found out, in desperation and searching for any answers and compassion, I posted about Hunni in a local Facebook group, hoping someone might have information. While some responses were extremely negative or judgmental, many others showed the kindness and compassion we all expect during times of loss. I will never apologise for how I express my grief, and neither should anyone else.

Certain sounds, people, that road, and the places I once searched for her, all bring me back to that time. I avoid anything which takes me back to the days and nights I spent searching and waiting for Hunni. It has even made me reluctant to go out in the neighborhood, where people were once unkind. Everything still feels raw. Living with this grief has changed how I navigate daily life but also reminds me of how deeply Hunni touched our hearts.

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. 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 could have known whether Hunni was still alive. If she was, she was alone, injured and in pain. We never got to say goodbye. We never got to hold her one last time.

I would not have shouted at you, nor blamed you. I just needed you to stop. To not leave Hunni alone. To get help if you were unsure or if it was not possible to drive to the vet yourself. To know that she had a family who loved her and was desperately searching for her. We were left without closure, without a chance to lay her to rest.

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.''