Happy Birthday Betsy

Today is the fifteenth birthday of Betsy and the ninety-seventh anniversary of Steve's Mom's Birth.

Betsy came to us in 2004.  She had lived with a woman who was divorcing and leaving the state.  Sadie, also came to us at that time.  Betsy spend the better part of the first two years in high places such as on top of the refrigerator.  She was a bit stressed as she also had a very yappy dog living with the divorcee.  Now, she is one relaxed lady despite the Springer that lives here too.  She's my talker.  One can carry on a regular conversation with her. Unfortunately, the communication  part is not so good as I do not understand cat.  She does, however, seem to understand human.  She likes to be patted, but not held.  I am happy that she joined our family.

Frisky

Frisky


Canine
English Springer Spaniel
Liver and white
Born sometime in 2002

Frisky, a misnomer, if ever there was one. I guess as a puppy he may have filled the bill, but no longer.

Frisky came to us as a foster care dog. He was approximately three years old when he joined our family November 12, 2005. His human papa had been hospitalized for several months. He had a double lung transplant. The transplant went well and was successful..

When I first heard that Frisky was in a veterinarian kennel and had been for a couple of months, I called his human mama. She had moved temporarily to an apartment to be near her husband some two hundred plus miles away from home. Practically speaking, she could not take care of the dog. In addition to the time she spent with her husband, the apartment complex did not allow pets. A neighbor took care of him for a month or so. Then the neighbor decided that she could no longer take care of him. Enter the vet’s kennel. The staff loved him, was very good to him and gave him excellent care, but it was not the best place for him to live. I was still up-north working our summer schedule for kettle korn, but told Frisky’s mom that I would be happy to bring him to my home when I returned to Florida. Mom was pleased.

Lynne and her daughter took Frisky out of his kennel home for a few days, until I could get to them. Both his human mama and papa were happy that we would have room to roam. We live about thirty miles from the hospital. Frisky’s folks were able to come out one day to visit.

Molly was still with us. So, Frisky became number two dog. Molly got the front bed in the van; Frisky the floor of the van. Molly was his big sister. She taught him how to behave at kettle korn events. She always slept under a table; he quickly learned to so do as well. After we lost Molly the following spring, Frisky became number one dog and got the bed in the front of the van. (The van has bucket seats and Steve built up a place where the dog’s bed could go. The dog can sleep or sit up and watch the scenery as it wishes…Molly oft sat up; Frisky generally sleeps.)

Frisky’s papa got a viral infection which attacked all his organs including his wonderful new lungs and passed in December 2005. Frisky’s mom felt he would be better with us. So, he went from foster care to being adopted. He reminds so much of his first human papa—his eyes, his expressions and his cute little wiggly jowls . They say pets look like their owners (or maybe owners look like their pets). ‘Tis true!

Frisky does not like being alone; he follows us around like…what’s the expression…oh, yeah…a dog. If we are outdoors, that’s where he wants to be; if we go indoors, he cries at the window to join us. He sleeps at our feet when the TV is on and follows Steve to the bedroom about an hour after Steve retires. I go to bed much later than my boys, but usually let him out just before I retire. More likely than not, I find him on the floor next to Steve’s side of the bed or under the bed.

When we go out to do an event, he is a crazy boy. While we are putting up the tent, he is constantly in the way. But as soon as everything is set up, he stays under one of the tables. Sometimes he rests in the back of the tent; but more often than not, he sleeps under the table in the front. He is soooooooo quiet that people do not often see him. He loves attention, but sometimes too many people or too much noise scares him.

Another fear he has is water—ocean, lake. I have tried to tell him that he is a spaniel; by nature, he should like water. But, no way! We have taken him to a doggie park that has a doggie beach. Try to coax him in! Ha Ha! He plants himself like a stubborn donkey. No pulling, pushing or carrying is gonna get that dude in that water. No way, Jose!

One of the funniest things about him is that he snores…LOUDLY. When he first came to us, I blamed Steve for the noise. It only took a couple of days to realize that it was not Steve at all, but this new critter in the house. He has a snorky sound (sometimes we call him Snork), a set of snorts and wheezes…actually a whole orchestra of sounds and melodies.

Like Betsy, we think he also wears a watch. His is probably a Goofy or Pluto or some other dog hero. Are there Lassie or Rin Tin Tin watches? Shortly after Betsy comes out of her room (see March 31 post), he starts barking. If ignored, he grabs his bowl and flings it until someone gets the hint and puts his grub into it.

He gets along well with the cats. He wants to play, but they apparently do not understand the doggie rules of the game—only the cat rules. So, the games do not always go well. The felines do, however, tolerate him and sometimes even rub against him. But, they are cats after all, and must maintain their aloofness.

Betsy

Betsy (feline)

Born August 4, 1995
Primarily white with large tabby/tiger spots


Betsy came to us in March 2004. She came with her name and knew it. If one says “Betsy” she will look directly at that person.

Her human mother was getting a divorce and leaving the state. I found out about Betsy through my veterinarian, Dr. Bill. She and Sadie resided together with this nut job human and a yappy dog. I probably would not have made the call if I knew this was not the first time the human made life changes that put her pets at risk of abandonment. It took both Betsy and Sadie a long time to adjust to our family.

At the time that they came, Molly (canine) and Scooter (feline) were long-time members of our family. We had lost Eb almost a year earlier. Molly and Scooter were good friends. They played together often. But, when we went away to do business (kettle korn) Scooter was left alone with lots of food, water, and kitty litter, as Molly came with us. Scooter was always welcoming when we got home. Steve thought she was lonesome and that she should have another cat to keep her company while we were gone.

A picture of Sadie was posted at the vet’s office. I called the woman. She said both cats had to go together as they had been together. I said, “OK.” She lied. The two cats still do not get along and hiss at each other whenever they are within twenty feet of each other.

Betsy spent the better part of the first couple of years hiding out on the top of the refrigerator, usually behind my cookie jars. She never knocked anything off. Today she usually sleeps in my guest room surrounded by pillows. When I looked in this morning, all I could see was her back in the middle of a rainbow of colored pillows.  When she sits, she reminds me of a Porcelain Cat.  She sits sooooo still.

She is my talker. Meow, meoooow, meow. Yak, yak, yak! She was a day-time outdoor cat for some time, but now that she is getting up there in age, she stays in more.

When she was with us about a year, she disappeared for what turned out to be three full days. We could not find her anywhere. When we did find her, she was meowing… From where was that sound comin'?  Well, it turned out she had gotten under the eaves. There was an ever so small opening that she somehow crawled through. I guess she felt safe up there, but finally got hungry. So, she came down. She loved high safe places.

The kettle korn business took us north for the summer season. We had moved to Florida and unlike many people who become snowbirds when they retire, we became snowbirds because of the business. Kettle korn in Florida in the summer does not work. So, back to New England. We did this for twelve summers.

The critters always traveled with us…the cats in carriers, depending on the year—one, two, three or four. The dog in the front seat. The cats were never happy, but would settle down after a couple of hours.

When we got to our house in Connecticut, we always found that we had given our home refuge to many mice for the winter. Betsy is one of my hunters. Within a couple of days in Connecticut, there were no more signs of mice in the house. I think that they told each other, “The cat is back! Scram!” Some years, for the first couple of mornings, we would find the carcass of a mouse, always in the same place. Thank you, Betsy, for the wonderful gifts you have given to us.

We no longer make the trip for the summer, so she gets to stay in one place. We moved since we got her. The rural area suits her well. I have found her on the roof…not on my roof, but on a neighbor’s. I cannot imagine how or why she got there, but within an hour or so, she was back in our yard.

Betsy wears a watch (or so we think). Every afternoon around four thirty, she comes out of “her” room and sits on the arm of the Lazy-Boy chair waiting for us to bring forth our evening vittles. She’s never late. We have become animalistic and eat most of our meals in front of that infernal TV. So, that arm is a good place for her to sit. Sometimes, she gets her favorite treat—chicken; sometimes, she gets nothing. She gives the alarm to Friskey and Roscoe as they now join her in the begging ranks. It is always amazing to me that many times I have not yet started the evening meal, so it cannot be the aroma that gets her attention. The watch is probably a Mickey Mouse watch or maybe Alice’s Cheshire cat! But she hides it well, so we cannot tell for sure. But, we know she has a clock of some sort.

Leave me alone...can't you tell it's nap time!

It's Reigning Cats and Dogs

I think that is about time that I introduce you to our critters—four cats and a dog.

Throughout our marriage most of our animals have been a rescue of one sort or another. We never “buy” a pet from a pet store or breeder. We have had three dogs—Gumby, Molly and now Friskey (and foster cared Mandy for a while) and twelve cats (I think) plus five kittens from one of them--Diablo, Ephraim, Suzy, Mama (who became Marble after her surgery), Fred (Frederick von Freeloader), Scooter, Eb, Calliope, and currently Betsy, Sadie, Gray-C and Roscoe. Our critters have been spayed or neutered (even Mama-Marble, the one that gave us kittens, after the appropriate time). Over the course of time, I will tell each of their stories.

The current dog is an English Springer. He is about seven years old. He has outgrown his name, Friskey. It has become a misnomer; he no longer is frisky, but instead a bit pudgy. Very smart critter. Liver and white.

Betsy is fourteen and is primarily white with circles of a tiger-tabby color. She is very talkative. I swear she wears a watch because every evening when I start preparing our dinner time, she comes out of her hiding place among the pillows in “her” bedroom. She is the only one of our pets for which I can give an exact date of birth. Her birthday in 1995 fell on Steve’s Mom’s birthday…August 4.

Sadie, our really dummmmmmmb cat is a fat tabby and is about nine years old. Betsy and Sadie came to us at the same time from a woman who was moving out of state.

Gray-C, is our tiny little lady. She weighs about seven pounds and is a grayish brindle. We believe that she is a refuge from Hurricane Charley (that is what the “C” after the hyphen means) that blew up the West Coast of Florida and followed the Peace Rive inland in 2004. The vet at that time put her age at about two, which would make her approximately seven. She is our most affectionate and loves to get middle-of-the-night cuddles as she walks over us until someone’s hand comes out to pet her.

And, then there’s Roscoe. There’s sooooooo much to say about him that I would not know where to start. He weighs about sixteen pounds, although he’s not fat…just big, long--and did I mention big. He is almost two. He came to us August 1, 2008 as a kitten at which time we guessed him to be about six months old. He is jet black and ALWAYS in some sort of trouble. Unlike most cats, however, he comes when he is called almost all the time (unless his mind and agenda are elsewhere).