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Post by meoquanee on Jul 11, 2009 23:18:56 GMT -5
Name: Hawthorn Eastwind
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: 3/20/2005
Height: 24 cm. at shoulder.
Sexual Preference: Heterosexual
Status: Not Neutered
Coat Color: Grey
Coat Pattern: Solid
Eye Color: Silver
Fur Length: Short
Appearance Extra: Hawthorn's most obvious trait is his raggedly torn left ear. The male's physique a little on the skinny side, but otherwise seems average. His face has a 'longer' look, his body all around streamlined in appearance and his eyes often squinted, mostly out of habit.
History: Born to a mother and father of a old cat hoarder, the little grey kitten whom had been deemed Hawthorn by the parentals started his life in a crowded and rather funky smelling basement with several other litters. He'd barely been a few days old, still blind, deaf, and fairly immobile when a group of well-meaning humans entered the home and seized all but a couple of the cats from the old lonely man. Hawthorn and his entire family was taken to a vet clinic where they recieved medical care and where he, his littermates, and his mother were placed in a foster home. This is where he grew old enough to begin retaining some of his memories. He and two of his littermates survived the moves and thrived in the foster home, having a grand ole' time playing and romping about.
Soon after they were weaned, their mother was taken from them and, unknown to them, was given a good home. A couple of months later, they too were taken from the foster home and placed in a large and roomy crate where they saw and interacted with people every day. It had taken almost no time before young Hawthorn was again swept away by a human and into a new home.
By this time Hawthorn, as a kitten, was as any other kitten; playful, rambunctious, and trouble. His human-given name, at the time, was infact 'Trouble'. The little grey rolly-polly got into everything and anything, and found his human's hands and feet to be delightful playthings. It was cute at the time, but apparently cute ends at adulthood for that sort of thing and it was outside for him. As you can imagine, the first few days were a terror for young Trouble...new sights, sounds, smells. After the first week, he grew bold enough to venture around to the backyard. That place had been lovely once he had become at ease with it. It had been large and open with a single birch tree purposely planted roughly in the middle. For the next few weeks, that tree was Trouble's main source of entertainment. Birds, squirrels, and a chipmunk were constant targets for his energy.
Still being young, the grey tom was still quite uneducated in the ways of the world. One night, a couple of months after his banishment to the outside and having grown very brave to the point where he would wander the town at his own whim, Trouble came face to face with 'the real world'. A clatter had caught his attention as he'd crossed silently across the front yards of unfamiliar humans, and his curiosity overtook him. Trouble hurried forward, searching for the source, and quickly found a large rump with a thickly furred and striped tail sticking out from an overturned garbage can. Trash was spewed everywhere, torn and shredded, and Trouble paused now and then upon his approach to sniff and lick at a seemingly tasty shred of colorful food-paper. Once the young cat had gotten close enough to what he assumed to be another feline, he'd lifted a paw to bat at the round bottom in an attempt to get it's attention. The creature had instantly whirled, sharp teeth bared and had only paused for a second before giving a blood-curdling hiss. That pause had seemed like an eternity to Trouble, and the young male had stared at the raccoon...which at that time had been a creature never before seen by him...in terror before the larger beast attacked. Trouble had squealed as he attempted to scramble away, and had succeeded escaping with most of his self intact though his left ear had become horribly shredded. Adrenaline, at that time, had pumped him enough to allow him to tear away from the raccoon and rocket across the lawns to beeline straight to the front porch of his home and cower there until morning. His humans had found him curled up by the door, head and face a bloody mess, and had decided upon home-care rather than taking him to the vet. They'd held him down while they gently cleaned up his ear; which of course had hurt as if a fire had been lit upon the appendage. After the scabs and clotted blood had been washed away they'd applied hydrogen peroxide, sending the young smokey-furred cat into a screaming and writhing fit. He'd managed to free a paw during the struggle and give one of the humans he'd so loved at the time a good slice down the arm. Control had immediantly been restored over him and they'd dabbed away the peroxide and applied triple antibiotic before letting him back outside; where he'd bolted from his human's grasp and fled several yards away to sulk in a hole that had been dug out beneath a shed. The next few years only grew worse.
After he'd healed, he'd gotten to thinking about the raccoon's method of finding food as by that time his humans had began to set out less and less food for him. Unknown to Trouble, the main source of income in that house had lost his job and things were beginning to become tight which resulted in less food for 'kitty'. The tom began to raid trash cans, finding a plethora of food far more palatable than the dry crunchy stuff his humans used to always set out for him. This technique, however, obviously greatly angered the owners of the targeted cans. Soon enough he was having to dodge b.b. guns, and ended up taking a few in the bottom a time or two. On top of that, during his raids he often had to fight for the right to the meal with other toms who lived on the property. Dogs were a constant dodge, as well. Trouble quickly grew to learn that the real world was not easy, and humans quickly became a loathed creature. His own rarely fed him anymore, and the rest always seemed to resent his presence when he crossed into their yards and showed interest in their garbage...or when he was just flat out caught tearing into it. That, of course, ended up in them attempting to harm him in order to stop the mess. Eventually, his struggles in the human territories came to a close when he was loaded up by his owners and taken far out to an old road where he was nudged from the car. The vehicle had quickly reversed and headed back the way they'd come, leaving Trouble staring after them with a burning anger. Later that evening, he decided to drop his human-given name and readorn himself with his birth name of Hawthorn. Since he had never learned his feline last name; he'd dubbed himself as Eastwind...easily decided enough by the direction of the gusting wind on the day of his abandonment.
Personality: Hawthorn has a sort of shadowier personality, though in no way is 'evil'. He has an extreme distrust of humans and hates raccoons with an intense passion. Other grown toms go untrusted unless he spends enough time around them to know for certain that they're okay. Queens normally get a little more willing attention from Hawthorn, but the male still tends to keep himself distanced unless he gets to know them with time and experience. Kittens are treated in much the same way, being distanced for a time though he tends to open up towards them much quicker. He can be overprotective of those he loves, almost to the point of it being ridiculous.
Hawthorn enjoys a challenge, whether it be a challenging hunt, or a fight (a fight with good reason, that is), or challenging himself to go farther or do more. He can be a romantic to the female he loves, and the suffocatingly overprotective father to his children though he'd be far from the spoiling type of parent. His temperament is a calmer, laid back one. Overly hyper cats, not including kittens, get on his list of disliked individuals quick, fast, and in a hurry. As for hyper kittens themselves, if the actions are aimed at him, he would just close his eyes and attempt to block it out. If the kittens are lucky enough to be his own offspring they may get a playtime or two out of him. Other cats that would go on said list just as fast would be those with cocky or narcissistic attitudes. Don't taunt him, he will bite. Simple as that.
If he so happens to come across a dog, depending on the size he may flee or terrorize. Quite obviously, if it's a dog who's size closely matches his own, Hawthorn would be more than willing to dish out some revenge on the creature for the harassments he himself had endured in the human town. Any canine larger than himself, though, may never even know he's nearby through sight or sound. Being scented, he knows, is unescapable and so he ensures he's out of the beast's reach by any means possible.
As for how he handles being around other creatures, it all depends on the creature itself. A predator larger than himself such as a coyote, dog, fox, or large hawk will be dodged the instant it is spotted. An edible creature smaller than himself can be dealt in one of two ways depending on circumstances. If Hawthorn is hungry, it is an instant target for a meal. A satiated Hawthorn, however, would pass it by without a second glance though in reality he would make a note of the critter's location in the case that he may want to return for the hopeful meal later. Large herbivores, such as deer or horses or what such creatures are basically ignored. As long as they don't bother him, he will not bother them.
Image: img.photobucket.com/albums/v691/GrimmyDee/Blog%20Pics/Greycat.jpg The closest image I could find that fits him, though his coat is supposed to be a bit darker and smokier.
Your OOC Name: Meoquanee
Other Characters On the Site: N/A
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