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

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