When Betsy Ross Came to Live at Our House

a glimpse into Uncle Rick’s life

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It’s been almost three years ago since we “rescued” little Betsy from the pound.

Miss Marilyn’s cat Jack had just died, and she was missing him pretty badly. So, we made a trip to the pound just to see what they had. We found a small, black and white kitty in one of the cages. We asked if we could pet her. When I took her out of the cage, she climbed up on my shoulders and wrapped herself around my neck. She didn’t want to get back in that cage. She won our hearts, and so home with us she came.

As you might have noticed, we usually name our animals after an important person from American history. We chose Betsy Ross for this little kitty. (read about the real Betsy Ross, here)

I call her the “pretty little kitty with a milk mustache”.
She’s Miss Marilyn’s cat, but she likes me pretty well too. I think she remembers that I’m the one who took her from that cage.

Betsy soon became quite comfortable at our house. She was gentle with the grand kids and they all loved her.

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Betsy lives outside much of the time but comes in to eat….

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….and sometimes likes to take a nap inside too.

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You hear stories about cats and dogs not getting along with each other, but Betsy and Mosby, my lab, are buddies.

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As a matter of fact, every morning when Miss Marilyn takes her walk in the woods, Mosby, Belle, and Betsy go along with her!

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On the way back home, Miss Marilyn and Betsy stop and sit on a big rock and just enjoy the quiet of the woods before coming back home.

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On family nights, when all the grand kids are at our house, she comes in to play with her toy mice and even loves playing marbles with the kids. They roll marbles to her and she bats them with her paw and chases them.

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At night just before bedtime, Betsy likes to come in for a small bedtime snack and that’s when she loves to jump on the bed, sit on my chest, and get petted for a few minutes before heading outside for the night.

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She usually curls up on the deck to sleep.

I’m glad God made animals, aren’t you?

 

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