It was a dark and stormy night . . .

Dec. 9 was a wretched, cold day with sideways rain and bone-chilling wind. The annual La Conner lighted boat parade, put on by the Swinomish Yacht Club, was scheduled for 6 p.m. and all day long people were speculating whether it would happen due to the inclement weather. I was not looking forward to my assignment to get some photos for the Weekly News. I have shot this parade for years and tried just about every possible angle and I always return to the Rainbow Bridge. Despite the weather, that was my plan for this year. 

At 5:15 p.m. I got confirmation that the parade was on and I steeled myself for a cold and wet location shoot. I knew no one else would be there. When I drove up to the bridge I first crossed the west side to park, then changed my mind and turned around. Strategizing for a quick exit, I parked on the east side, facing town. I bundled up, attached my camera to the tripod, covered it with a rain cover, pulled out my phone to use as a flashlight and crossed the street with my gear in tow.

I carefully stepped on the narrow bridge walkway. As I started walking across the bridge I heard an awful noise. I pointed my phone light forward and there, on the walkway, directly in front of me, I saw a small, wet lump of fur, wailing in distress. I immediately recognized it was a kitten. On the bridge! In the rain and cold! I made my way to it, scooped it up and tucked it into my jacket. It was shivering and crying, but quickly calmed down next to my warmth.

We headed back to the car, where I turned on the heat and sat cuddling it for a while. I called my husband, who was planning to watch the parade from some warm spot in town, told him what was going on and asked him to notify me the minute he saw the boats heading down the channel. When he did, I tucked the kitten into a spare down vest I had in my car, turned on the seat warmer and left the car running as I headed back to the bridge to take photos. 

I brought my first stray kitten home when I was five years old and I have been a friend of cats ever since, so besides getting over the shock and horror of this tiny being alone and wet on top of the bridge, where it could easily have fallen off into the channel or wandered into traffic, I knew what to do. I took it home, dried it, fed it and warmed it up. It settled right in. My two adult cats were unhappy with its presence, but I separated them and gave the older cats extra treats to reassure them they were not being displaced.

A trip to the vet revealed his gender and, as I had suspected, that he was about eight weeks old. My vet declared him "one of the healthiest kittens I have ever seen!" This was not a feral kitten.

As for what to call him, there was only one possible name: Stormy. And true to his name, he has disrupted my household routine in the delightful and hilarious way only a kitten can. I have been documenting his adventures on social media for friends and now people stop me in the post office to ask how he's doing. While he's likely forgotten that rainy night, I'm still traumatized by how he came into my life.

I don't know how that kitten ended up on the bridge. My first thought was a raptor had dropped it, but there were no puncture wounds. I hate to think a human abandoned it there, but I can't see any other logical explanation. 

If you have a pet you can't care for, please don't abandon it. The Skagit Humane Society will help. I'll be making extra donations to animal shelters and rescues this season. Stormy will appreciate it if you do, too.