A Rescue Kitten That Rescues Her Humans

Stormer meets Buddy

It didn't take us long to see what a special kitten this one was. Sue's brother knew that a mother cat had a litter somewhere, he just didn't know where. When he saw that the mother cat had been killed, he went on a desperate search.

By the time he found the kittens, all of them were dead except one. She was in bad shape but she was alive, and only maybe two weeks old. She hadn't gone to the bathroom or eaten in days.

John took her home and let her walk in milk. It was the only way he could get her to eat, as she would walk in it and then lick the milk off her paws. He called Sue, who learned how to help a kitten that small go to the bathroom, fell in love, and took her home.

Weeks of special care and bottle feeding ensued as they wondered if the kitten would be able to pull out of the danger zone. By the time we got there, the cat was healthy, eating some cat formula and some canned food, and had mastered the litter box. She certainly wouldn't have made it without the great care that she got.

There was only one problem. Sue's beloved cat hated the kitten. Absolutely despised her. So when we arrived and proclaimed kitty to be the most adorable thing ever, Sue mentioned that she would love to find a good home for the little scrapper.

I fought it, coming up with excuse after excuse but I knew all along I had a new kitten.

The name Viva did not match my personality. So her middle name is Viva. Her new first name ended up coming from the Jem cartoon series (ahhh memories): Stormer. Named after a member of the Misfits. It fits her.

After it was plainly obvious that we would take her home, we had to figure out how. It turned out to be super easy.

We loaded up the van and visited several major waterfalls in Oregon before saying goodbye to Sue and pushing out. We had a carrier, a Tupperware container with a lid for a litter box, and lots of kitten food and toys. I think we put her in the carrier three times, all when we brought her out of the van to hang out with us while we ate along the way. The rest of the time she laid in the front seat passenger's lap, playing with her feather until she tuckered out, then she'd sleep. The whole way. She's the greatest traveler ever.

A particularly memorable moment came when we stopped that first night at a Motel 6. I took her into my room and then went out to get her stuff. She got impatient for me to get the litter box out, so as I followed her with the box, she walked into the bathroom, got into the shower, positioned herself directly over the drain, and peed. I was so proud.

She was great using her box in the van as well. Margie or I would just get the box from under our feet and put it on our laps and she'd do what she needed to, cover it up, and wait for us to seal it and put it down again. What a good girl.

We had a blast with her on that trip and mom would smile like she'd won the lottery when Stormer would curl up on her lap.

At the end of October of 2006, at the exact same time I found out about Mom's diagnosis, my best friend showed up on her way to California. She could only take two of her cats with her, so Tattoo became a part of our family in the meantime.

Tatters was my man. We had bonded when I visited his mom in Kentucky when he was still a kitten. He adored me. Unfortunately he made Roxy's life hell so we had to keep them separated. But he was a great guy who would fetch his mouse toys and bring them back to fetch them again. He'd bury his mice in his food bowl, sleep right by my head, and maul and sleep with his favorite stuffed squirrel toy. I would lie sticks of incense on the floor and he would put his paw on the one he wanted me to use. He did a lot of things no other cat I've ever had has ever done.

And then he got out one day and hasn't come back. I was so heartbroken I couldn't even look at his squirrel so I put it in the closet around our water heater and closed the door.

After we got home with Stormer, strange things started to happen. I dropped a mouse toy on the floor and she ran off with it, then brought it back. I shrugged and threw it and she ran and got it and brought it back. I didn't have to teach her to play fetch, she just knew.

The next day I found a mousey buried in her food bowl. That night she slept right by my head. Just to test her, the next morning I laid out some incense and told her to pick one. She carefully looked them over, and then put her paw on one.

The most amazing thing came two days later. She walked right over to the water heater closet and went crazy scratching on the door. I opened it, she hopped in, grabbed the squirrel, climbed out, hopped on the bed, laid down, put one paw on the squirrel and looked at me as if to say, "Mine." She carries it around with her everywhere, just like Tattoo. It has to be in the bed with us at night. When I'm feeling a little down, she brings it to me.

After six or seven other Tattoo-isms showed themselves, Stormer got an extra middle name: TatTwo.