You are a wonderful storyteller, Karen. Thanks, that was worth reading. Smiles, Anna -----Original Message----- From: padutch-life-bounces@rootsweb.com [mailto:padutch-life-bounces@rootsweb.com] On Behalf Of Richard Emlin Reed Sent: Friday, August 10, 2007 2:03 PM To: padutch-life@rootsweb.com Subject: Re: [PD-LIFE] Animals in Our Homes A beautiful story, Karen. I wish it had had a happy ending. But we can console ourselves by picturing Rascal sitting on Nana's lap up in Heaven, having his belly scratched. Richard ----- Original Message ----- From: "Karen Fox" <karenmfox@verizon.net> To: <padutch-life@rootsweb.com> Sent: Friday, August 10, 2007 1:45 PM Subject: [PD-LIFE] Animals in Our Homes > My late stepfather's parents always treated me & my siblings just as they > did their "real" blood grandchildren, even though I was a young adult when > they entered my life. They were old school Penna Dutch - the kind that > belonged to the grange, many social clubs and auxillaries, etc. They were > active with the Kutztown Folk Festival and attended every Fersommling. > Although they raised their family in the City of Reading, Poppop and Nana > were from old farm families outside Kutztown. Upon retirement, they bought > some land at the edge of the family farm from his brother and built a home > they retired to. > > Soon after they were out in the country again, Nana rescued a tiny raccoon > kit whose mother had been hit by a car in the road outside their home. She > brought it inside and nursed and hand raised it, naming him Rascal. No one > was surprised at her success with Rascal. He adored her and followed her > around like a puppy. He enjoyed sitting in her lap and having his belly > scratched. The basement was "raccoon proofed" and that was "his" space. He > was timid of strangers, so when visitors would come, he would run right > down to the basement. After a while, his curiosity would get the better of > him and you would see the door knob move and he'd poke his nose out to > investigate. Eventually if he determined there was no threat, he would > come out and greet everyone. He was so full of personality and never bit > or threatened anyone ever. > > One day my stepsister (who was about the same age as I) were up visiting > Nana. My stepsister was standing with her back to the basement door and > was startled when Rascal opened it from behind her and came out to join > us. She screamed and started running around the coffee table. Rascal > started chasing her, so she screamed more and ran faster. He kept looking > back and keeping up with her as they circled the table over and over. Nana > and i were laughing so hard we had tears in our eyes. We finally got my > stepsister to calm down and sit down. She said "but he was chasing me, I > thought he was going to attack me" (she knew better but was being > dramatic). We told her no, he figured if she was screaming that there was > something to be scared of so he was running after her for her to protect > him from the "bad" thing whatever it was. It was the funniest thing. > > Nana was a good cook and Rascal was no fool. He liked to hang in the > kitchen when she was cooking or baking, waiting for scraps that might fall > on the floor. He grew to be the biggest fattest raccoon I've ever seen. > Somewhere there is an old holiday card with a pic of Rascal sitting up on > his haunches next to a kitchen chair. He came about 3/4 of the way up the > chairback, he was that big. > > When Nana died we tucked a picture of her buddy Rascal and a little > ceramic raccoon figurine into her casket "to keep her company". Poor > Rascal was so lost. He would wander into the kitchen to get scraps and she > wouldn't be there. He'd crawl up and sit in her chair in teh living room, > but she wasn't there to scratch his belly. He had lost a lot of his > "spark" once Nana died. One day he slipped outside unnoticed, wandered > into the field next to their home and someone shot him and left him in the > field. It was small game season, so we figure it was probably a hunter who > didn't realize that he was a tamed pet (he wore a collar) until it was too > late. > > Karen from Berks Cawhnty > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > PADUTCH-LIFE-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to PADUTCH-LIFE-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message