The confusion started with my mother calling a Boston Terrier a Boston Bulldog.
Mom: Didn't we have a Boston Bulldog here?
Me: You mean Boston Terrier.
Mom (not sounding convinced): OK.
Me: We had PeeWee, but that was at the old house. He ran away. Supposedly.
Mom: But we had another one here besides Joe Lee.
Sis: Howie.
Me: Yeah, Howie. He supposedly ran away while we were on vacation, but I always suspected that Dad just had him removed while we were gone. (I'd brought Howie home without asking.)
(Mom looks confused. Not sure if Dad really didn't do that, or he just didn't tell her.)
Sis: And there was Pockets of course.
Mom: The shepherd.
Me: No, he was a poodle!
Mom: We had a poodle?
Sis: Yeah, he was mine, we got him from the B-----s, remember?
Me: And he got poisoned.
Sis: What?
Me: He got poisoned twice, that's why we had to give him away.
Sis: No, he bit the mailman, that's why he had to go.
Me: No! Poisoned. I remember clearly. The first time the vet thought he might not live. The second time wasn't so bad.
Sis: But they told me he'd bitten the mailman!
(Nobody else remembers the mailman story. Joe Lee did start nipping at repairmen's heels in her old age though.)
Me: He went to live with Dad's friend who had a place in the country.
Mom: No, we gave him to a lady at church. I remember her telling me when he died.
Me: I might be thinking about the chicks instead. I know we gave them to W---- out in the country.
Niece: You had chicks?!
Hubby: Maybe it was Little Buns.
Me: I think we gave him Little Buns too. (That was a rabbit.)
Niece: Can we get some chicks?!
Me: Later on we realized that it probably wasn't a person poisoning the neighborhood animals deliberately -- it was pesticide runoff from peoples' yards.
Mom: Yes, Mr Y----'s dog died. The shepherd.
Sis: No, it was one of those miniature collies. A Shetland Sheepdog.
(Mom looks confused.)
Brother-in-law: Are you sure you all grew up in the same house?
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Current crazy dog, a Great Pyrenees named Jasmine.
Friday Ark
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