What's In A Name?

Once we had a cat named Betsy Ross.

There was no significant reason for the name, other than my older brother convinced me we should "honor history" by using the name. The cat was female and young, white and frail and the first pet we'd ever owned. She came to our door on a crisp, chilled morning when the hoarfrost on the ground gave notice of a difficult winter to come and we pleaded with our mother, indicating to her that refusal would implicate her in a consipiricay to mistreat poor little Betsy Ross and news in the animal kingdom would spread...with a sigh and a look to the heavens, she caved.

Armed with a bottle of pet shampoo-the de-fleaing kind-my brother and I set about taking good care of little Betsy Ross, but she was an outdoor cat by nature, what I've come to know as a "feral cat." She couldn't have completely adhered to being a house cat even if she'd wanted to; it was against her very nature. We tried to make her what she wasn't and finally had to admit defeat when she tore a gaping, triangular hole in our screen door and made for the great outdoors. She didn't travel far, though. She made it to our backyard, and there she remained, for the most part, until she taught my brother and I another lesson by dying. Before she left us for the great catly beyond, however, she gave birth to probably 30 kittens, some of whom stuck around to be fed and loved by us in our backyard, and some who didn't. Sure, now we know we should have spayed little Betsy and probably saved ourselves and more than a few cats from heartache of some kind, but back when we were kids it wasn't broadcast, we didn't know...

So to me, the name "Betsy Ross" isn't about flag-making and the spirit of a country. The name has more to do with learning about life and death and what it means to let go of something greatly loved...in several different ways.