This story was originally shared on The Animal Rescue Site. Submit your own rescue story here. Your story just might be the next to be featured on our blog!

In 2010, I found myself living alone for the first time in many years. My children were grown, I was divorced, and I was lonely. I realized I hadn't had a pet of my own since I was a child; we'd had many when my kids were growing up, and I'd shared pets with roommates, but now I wanted one of my own. What kind? Why, a cat, of course.

With visions of a cute tiny kitten dancing in my mind's eye, I went to our local shelter. Overwhelmed by all the adorable kitty energy in the room, nonetheless I was quickly drawn to a pretty orange tabby in a cage with - oh wait, what was that thing?

In the cage was a large, shaggy, torn, grey stuffed rabbit. I asked, of course, and was told that this was Petey, and that she could not be separated from her bunny. Petey snuggled with it, nursed on it, and slept with it.

Well, I'm a sucker for quirky, so I was smitten - especially when I was told that female orange tabbies are rather rare. The bunny looked awful but didn't smell bad, so Petey and her bunny went home with me that very day.

It soon became evident that Petey's bunny was not her only quirk. She was usually affectionate and loving, but she just hated it whenever I left home. Upon my return from an overnight trip, she would regularly attack me, especially, for some reason, as I walked up the steps to the second floor. Over time, Petey mellowed a bit but never could be trusted with new people.

After three years with me, she developed a liver ailment and had to be put down. She died in my arms. Two of my children were there to comfort me. Petey was the first pet I could call my own after many decades, and even with her dubious personality, her passing left me bereft.

Petey and her bunny were buried together on my sister's ranch, wrapped in a beautiful purple sarong that looked fabulous next to Petey's bright orange fur.