meet the residents. The series. The blog. #1 Hunter part 1 - the Undying Chaos Gremlin.
- hoomane
- Sep 29
- 3 min read
meet the residents. The series. The blog.
Hunter. Part 1.
Hunter - the Undying Chaos Gremlin.
The blog.
DOB: April 29(ish), 2007
Aliases: Salad Vampire, Sir Wheeze-a-Lot, The Immortal Kitten, Tabby Cryptid That Refuses to Expire
He has a very, very, very long name (officially) contributed to by people in my life at the time. Each based on his weirdo personality. Too embarrassed to post here (lol). DM if your curiosity gets the best of you.
Hunter is 18. Apparently. Atleast I've had him since 2007. But let’s be for real, time has no dominion over him. He exists outside the laws of biology, physics, & common sense. He’s the cat equivalent of a rock band that’s been on its “farewell tour” for two decades.
At 2 AM, while mortal cats sleep, Hunter patrols the house like a cryptid sighting: glowing eyes, erratic sprints, opera vocals that would summon demons if demons weren’t afraid of him.
He’s not aging. He’s levelling up.
The Origin Story: Death Said No
Hunter rolled into my life via the Humane Society, a six-month-old skeleton with fur. Within days, he decided to audition for the role of “tragic consumptive orphan” & nearly died. Twice.
The board president fostered him. He rallied, then promptly collapsed like a Victorian child with a mysterious cough. Enter: me, converting my parents’ bathroom into an ICU.
The treatment plan was… experimental:
Giant needle spa sessions (fluids straight to the system, baby)
Medication battles (Hunter 1, Me 0)
Steam therapy (aka the Bathroom of Doom)
My other cat, Panda, doing full dramatic vigils like she was in Les Misérables
By all logic, Hunter should’ve ascended to the great salad bar in the sky. But no. He stared Death in the face & said, “Not today, loser.”
Raised by Guinea Pigs
Hunter grew up with my guinea pigs Gizmo & Piglet, & it permanently rewired his taste buds. Forget meat—this cryptid craves leafy greens.
Bring lettuce into the house & suddenly you’re being tackled by an 18-year-old feral blur demanding tribute. He eats broccoli with the unhinged glee of a gremlin gnawing on forbidden treasure.
I live in fear of the day he realizes I don’t source his salads from an ancient druidic grove.
Medical Mysteries & Chaos Rituals
Hunter’s survival does come with some fine print. He’s got asthma & a mysterious eye disease that’s been examined by multiple vets, a specialist, & an ophthalmologist who charged more than my car but told me absolutely nothing useful.
So now he gets daily meds, eye drops, & occasional extra doses when the Curse of the Left Eye flares up.
Until my pets evolve opposable thumbs & camera skills, you’ll just have to imagine a chaotic ballet of claws, wheezes, & profanity.
Immortal Vibes Only
Despite the paperwork saying “senior cat,” Hunter refuses to retire. He still:
Attacks salad like it insulted his family
Zooms like he’s powered by forbidden energy drinks
Greets clients at the door like a king, then tries to escape to his other kingdom (the great outdoors he’s never allowed in)
Hunter isn’t just old. He’s eternal. He’s the salad-stealing, chaos-summoning, unkillable cryptid cat haunting my house & blessing it with wheezy zoomies.
Here’s to Hunter: the one who cannot be stopped, cannot be aged, cannot be denied his leafy green sacrifices. May he outlive us all.
follow along. & share w your crew (get me new client friends).
instagram & facebook. @hoomanepetcare
blog(s).
-a
#ottawa #supportlocal #smallbusiness #petcare #petdaycare #petboarding #supportsmallbusiness #localpetcare #ottawapetcare #petcareblog #petblog
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