Parents Lie

Travelling home from work last night was a particularly nightmarish experience…

Having left my customers office at 3.45pm, I was looking forward to getting back to the village at a reasonable time for once – after all, Sheffield is only about 65 miles away. However, after queing for what seemed like an eternity to pay for my car parking, it then took me around three quarters of an hour to leave the grounds of the car park. Progress on the main road was hampered somewhat by the diversion signs guiding people around a collapsed sewer, and the predilection of new mothers to assume that the baby buggy they are pushing through the traffic confers some form of magical invincibility to the trauma of a double decker bus ploughing through them, didn’t really help. Total journey time to the motorway (around 5 miles) clocked in around the hour and three quarter mark, making my eventual time of arrival in the village around 6.45pm.

I wasn’t happy.

Which brings me to the subject of todays post.
While travelling, I was subjected to a longer than usual dose of drivetime radio, on which the prevalent subject of discussion for the evening was the lies parents tell young children about the death of their much cherished pets.

I was quite lucky in this respect. My dog Trixie died at a ripe old age, at a time when I was old enough to understand that she had died. My Mum & Dad were honest about what was happening, so didn’t have to lie. But my heart went out to the guy who rang in, saying that his mother had told him that his Border Collie, Sam, had gone for a job as a Police Dog, and how thereafter he often wanted to call in to the police station to see how he was doing, only to be told that Sam would be on undercover duties and therefore not available. It was 10 years later when his mum admitted that Sam had in fact been ploughed half a mile down the road by a number 57 bus. The poor guys voice was trembling with emotion as he related the tale.

Then there was the bloke whose rabbit died. His parents just replaced it, telling their son that rabbits were like Dr Who, and magically regenerated when they got to a certain age, thus explaining why his albino rabbit was now black and tan with lop ears. And the girl who had a white budgie one day, and a blue one the next. Her parents, rather than admitting that they had accidentally hoovered up the poor bird, told her that it now had its winter coat on!

All lies – told in good faith to protect the young from the absolute truth of death. But how do you feel when you find out the truth?

So, has this ever happened to you? Did your parents lie to you? Or, more importantly, are you a parent who has told similar lies to your offspring, and feel it’s time to get it all off your chest. Go on, you’ll sleep easier at night…

Click ‘Comments’ and tell us your tale of woe.

2 Comments

• By catweasel, February 8, 2008 @ 4:12 pm

  My parents lied to me when they told me I was adopted… Although I think that was more a case of wishful thinking on their behalf…
• By RHQM, February 9, 2008 @ 12:50 pm

  Aah, memories! 1973 aged 12 in the summer holidays roaming in the countryside with my faithful hound Ricky a constant companion. Over hill and down dale, chasing rabbits, squirrels – picnic lunches sharing food, a delightful time for a young lad in a beautiful summer. Alas, it wasn’t to last! Taken to the doctors with “Asthma” and ending up at the Infirmary being tested for allergies. Turns out I’m allergic to house dust mites, wool, feathers and DOG HAIR! What!!! Worried sick about what was to happen. Gets home from school to find no Ricky waiting expectantly in the window, tongue lolling and tail wagging. “Mum, where’s Ricky”? Long, convoluted story about an uncle who owns a farm back in Ireland who’s been burgled and requires the services of an excellent guard dog! So, apparently, Ricky has been sent back to Ireland to guard my uncle’s farm? “Which uncle’s this then mum”? “Shush, eat your tea”. “How did Ricky get back to Ireland mum”? “Shush, eat your tea”. “Can we go and see him at Christmas mum”? “Shush, eat your tea”! A long time before I found out Ricky had, in fact, been taken to the dog pound at Mount Street. I can only hope that Ricky was quickly adopted by a loving family! But who knows?

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