April 12, 2009
Stormie’s Story: The Tale of a Former Easter Bunny
Stormie (l) and Noel
On this Easter, the day when countless bunnies will sadly be given as Easter presents, only to be forgotten later, I want to share Stormie’s story. Stormie, a dainty Silver Marten, found her way – how and why I do not know – to a terrible shelter, where the bunnies were housed outdoors, shielded only from the bitter New England winter by a thin tarp, where I first met her.
On the front of her cage was a note: “Do Not Touch. Attack Rabbit.”
At first, I didn’t attempt to pet her. Cleaning her tiny cage was a challenge. She growled and boxed at me each time, but I talked to her and promised her she wouldn’t have to stay there forever. I would watch her, each day as I left the shelter, staring sadly from her cage out of the plastic window. I had already decided to adopt Thumper for Puddles and Midnight for Riley – that would give us four bunnies. Still, I couldn’t leave Stormie behind.
I will never forget the look on Stormie’s face when I let her out of her carrier and into her new home. Her eyes were wide and she immediately began exploring. She would never have to shiver through frigid nights again or have to munch on rotten greens.
Stormie, because she was without a mate, spent her first weeks with us stretched out on the couch next to me. She was still jumpy and would grunt at me when I tried to touch her, something she never really outgrew. She liked to be pet and hugged on her terms, when she wanted it. Stormie was the boss – of everyone. And, that was okay. She’d endured so much in her time before coming to us that she should be in charge.
Stormie & Noel: True Love
A year after I adopted Stormie in November of 2001, I fostered Noel. He was just a baby but quickly became the love of Stormie’s life. The two were inseparable, and Noel helped Stormie through her pain. She wasn’t an attack rabbit, after all (big surprise), nor was she hormonal (I had her spayed within days of bringing her home). She was an elder bun, and X-rays revealed severe arthritis in her back and spine. She didn’t growl because she was unhappy or because she didn’t like people. She growled because she was in pain, a burden we both shared (I have had chronic pain since I was 23).
Meds help Stormie regain some of her youth and her spunk. She lapped up her new medicine, hidden in raspberry jam, every day, even sharing it with Noel. The two spent the next few years exploring together, eating together, and lying together in front of the TV. They spent every moment together.
Then, in April of 2004, Noel was struck with a cancerous tumor. The tumor was removed, and we were all hopeful that that was the end of that.
It wasn’t.
By the end of August, cancer had eaten away at Noel’s increasingly weak body. He fought valiantly, but there was no hope. One tumor was amassed in his chest, and he would not have survived the surgery.
With Stormie by his side, Noel died on August 31, 2004.
Little did any of us know Stormie, too, would be gone a year later.
Saturday Afternoon Car Rides
In the months preceding August 18, 2005, Stormie lost a lot of her spark. She bonded with Riley and Midnight, lying closely to them and letting them know what she wanted them to do and when. If they annoyed her by eating pellets when she wanted to eat alone, she bit their butts. She battled stasis and graciously allowed me to give her a shot every five hours until she was back to herself.
She still loved going for rides in the car. I would take her with me on Saturday afternoon errands in South Jersey. My favorite memory from those times was going to a new store, a place we’d never been, on a warm fall afternoon. Stormie’s eyes were wide and she looked around as we drove. She stayed upright, checking out what was going on. She was so curious and content.
After a half an hour, she was a little less interested. By the time we were really lost an hour later, she was stretched out and sleeping on the front seat.
I miss those afternoon drives.
Goodbye, Stormie
Stormie was an old girl – my old girl – but she lost that shine in her eyes when Noel died. I awoke on August 18, 2005 to find Stormie not quite herself. We rushed to the vet, who X-rayed her, and found nothing wrong. A full exam showed no problems. I tried to get her to eat and drink throughout the day and kept her right next to me the whole day.
That night, her body started to shut down. As I held her, she took her last breath.
Life is still not the same without Stormie.
Stormie’s First Gift as an Angel
Heartbroken, I took Stormie to be cremated the next day then stayed in bed, away from the world. I later posted a message about her passing on a rabbit group I had posted to since 2001.
A member wrote to me. She remembered Stormie. She had been to the same shelter in May of 2001 and had seen Stormie, months before I had adopted her. She remembered the sign: “Do Not Touch: Attack Rabbit.” She told me she, too, had adopted a bunny from the shelter and had always felt guilty because she took her bunny from her bonded mate. She didn’t know at the time how traumatic that could be for both of the bunnies.
I was able to tell her I knew the bunny who had been left behind and she had, in fact, been adopted to a very loving person.
Because of Stormie, she was able to stop worrying and feeling guilty. She knew that the bunny (who I called Cocoa) had been adopted into a loving home.
Please Don’t Buy Unless You Are Ready for a Lifelong Commitment
Stormie spent who knows how long in a shelter because someone bought her and didn’t want her. My bunny, Puddles, (who died in 2002) was left to fend for herself in a park. Pippin, who died in 2006, spent so many years cooped in a tiny shelter cage that she didn’t know how to hop when she came home. She just sat still until she realized it was okay to run around. Noel was a forgotten present, neglected by his owners.
Stormie, Puddles, Pippin, and Noel were all the lucky ones. (And so were my bunnies Riley, Midnight, Thumper & Maggie.) Many former Easter bunnies never get the chance to have a loving home. Many end up in shelters or rescues. Those who are lucky find homes or live out their lives with loving fosters. But, more than a million every year are euthanized, never to know the love and the security of a real home and a real family.
