Hey all. Got some sad news. My beloved cat, Lady Hawkins, passed away four days ago, at the age of 18. I first got her way back in the summer of 2003, for my 14th birthday. I still remember the joy of seeing this adorable kitten with bright green eyes on my bed, and learning quickly how playfully ferocious she could be by her many bites and scratches. Named after the Matthew Broadrick movie of the same name, she quickly learned how to train us humans with her pitiful cries and "puppy-eye" stares. Honestly, whenever she looked at you, you could see a person recognizing you right back.
Not to unfairly judge fellow pet-owners, but I always found it weird when people refer to their dogs and cats as "children", calling themselves their "mommy" and "daddy". It always seemed bizarre and weird to me to use human terms to describe our relationship with our pets. The way I saw Lady Hawk was not a "daughter" (Ugh... Just writing that gave me the creeps). I didn't even see her as a "pet" per say, at least not traditionally. It was more of a complex friendship, where we didn't need words to convey our thoughts and feelings to one another. I could tell when she wanted chin scratches or play fights, and she knew when I needed kitty kisses and purrs after a rough day at school or work. I suppose in the end, all pet owners have that kind of "synchronization" with their animal friends, but Hawkins was my long time friend. We grew up together.
Living with a travel-prone family like ours, Hawkins has had quite the many adventures, having lived in San Diego, Alaska, Washington, and Portland, Oregon. Considering how most cats hate any sort of change, I hope all that traveling didn't mess with her psyche too much. Alas, eventually it came time for me to live on my own, but my apartment at the time didn't allow pets, so my parents graciously cared for her in my absence. But years later, their new apartment was too small for a bossy Hawkins, so a friend of theirs from church, Stephanie, generously offered to take my cat off their hands. They pretty much became buddies on day one, and you can actually see their shenanigans on this Instagram page:
After ten months, however, Lady Hawk stopped eating and drinking. The vet told Stephanie and my dad that her body was shutting down. Seeing her last photos, I can see in her eyes that she knew it was time. Time... To die. Our family has had many pets over the years, from dogs, cats, birds, and even frogs. Most, sadly, have died from cars, wild animals, sudden illness, or we just couldn't take them with us and had to give them away. The best possible end I could have wished for Lady Hawk was to peacefully pass away in the arms of those who loved her.
I know animals are not the same as people, and I know that all creatures will eventually die. But still... To have befriended a beautiful kitty with a huge personality and a gleaming soul for well over half my life... And I wasn't there in person to say goodbye? My heart is broken.
While I couldn't be there in her final moments, I decided to make a memorial for her: a video tribute to her goofy sense of violence, queenly presence, and massive heart. It's the least I can do to send her off to the afterlife. If God does allow pets into His new heaven and earth, I'll be sure to keep my ears open for a familiar meow, only to look down to a pair of bright emerald eyes, as if to say, "There you are, Soren. What kept you?"
Thank you to everyone who was apart of her life, for loving and caring for Lady Hawkins.
(Caution! Turn down your volume at 0:50!)
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