Not only did my parents really send my dog to a farm, but they said the dog actually bought the farm!
He wasn’t just there, he OWNED the place!
Revtim, you beat me to it. That was exactly what I was thinking as I was reading this thread. 
I wonder what the true etymology of that phrase is?
Actually, it’s been longer than you originally thought.
My apologies to… well, just about everybody who posted, especially those of you who lost pets AND trust in your parents. :smack:
When my mom was a small tyke, her uncle told her that he saw her aged cat skipping arm-in-arm with a rabbit, going down the path through the woods. She was royally pissed at rabbits for stealing her beloved cat from her (until years later she realized why her uncle had been carrying a gun).
Maybe this was why we had an elaborate funeral for my first pet goldfish, Marc Antony. There was no doubt that he was dead, and not seduced by some fluffy bunny.
I was never under any illusions about pet deaths – because, for some reason, I was the one who got nominated to be the executioner when my younger brothers’ pets needed to, um, depart. (Cancerous mice, and the like.) Not good days for me, those days, but I learned to make it quick, at least.
Except for the one time when it was my pet. A budgerigar, this; I’d had him for years, and he was incredibly tame. He’d spend hours patiently standing on my shoulder, occasionally nibbling my ear or unravelling my jersey as I tinkered away on the computer. But he got old, and senile, and he could barely manoeuvre around the cage any more …
… And one day when I got home, he wasn’t in the cage any more. I knew what had happened immediately, and I thanked my mother for doing it for me, because I don’t think I could have done it.
… Damn, this is a shitty way to feel in the middle of a work afternoon.
Oh my God.
I was reading this thread, thinking, “Goodnes gracious, what a trauma it must have been to find this out! Your parents had your dog put to sleep and didn’t even tell you? My parents would never do such a thing! When Blue got too big for our cramped city apartment, they found a farmer outside of town who…”
Honest to God, I just this moment realized what happened to old Blue. Or what I suspect happened; I think it’s time for a little family discussion.
They loved that dog, too.
Wow, what a weird thread this has become. I never had this happen to me. The one major pet we had when I was growing up was a cat, she died when when I was about ten of Feline AIDS. She had been sick for a while, so I guess lying would’ve been pointless.
I would not have thought to check Snopes, but my Google search sent me straight there:
My mom really did send a cat of ours to a farm. I think this is so because the family she talked about had dozens of cats, which didnt really seem to be the perfect situation, both for taking care of them and for socialization purposes. The cat in question was at least 16 years old but still quite agile, and had only been around 3 other cats in her lifetime, and had been known to pick injurious fights with other cats.
I mean, if you wanted to lie, it would be a place where the cat would be loved to death by a very caring family and have all the room in the world…right? RIGHT?
(Actually, what probably happened was the cat arrived at the farm, and got into a fight with another cat, injuring the OTHER cat (at 16 years old!), but then retreating into the woods feeling the unfriendly vibe around her. Which is probably worse than getting put to sleep.)
My parents put down our horse Minnie last year (she had lung problems), and didn’t consult either me or my sister before doing so. My sister was the only one who ever rode Minnie, but she moved away years ago. Whenever I was around, I’d feed and “water” Minnie, and we’d have nice conversations. She especially enjoyed my visits after the rabbit who lived in the barn passed away. (There was also a radio in the barn to keep Minnie entertained, but we both agreed that popular music today is quite lacking.)
Though I was very upset with my parents for not trying to do more about Minnie’s lung problems before having her put down, I was morbidly candid about it with my friends. When I told them about it, I said that my parents had a large hole dug in a back field with a backhoe, and then waited until Minnie got curious and starting sniffing around the hole. Then they quickly ran up and pushed Minnie in, and quickly filled in the hole. Yes, that’s an evil story, but I do miss her dearly. (And Minnie was buried in a back field.)
Friends of mine who grew up on an actual farm told me a story about a lamb which they considered a pet. It actually had a collar, and was tethered to the back porch of the house. When the family was away, it would be untied and placed in a small shed. Unfortunately, one day, during a brief outing, they left it tied, and when they got back they found it had suffocated to death by getting one of its front feet stuck in its collar.
The brothers told their younger sister that it had committed suicide. She didn’t believe them, but it upset her all the same. To this day (about 15 years later), they can still upset her by going “baa” and holding their wrist crooked against their neck. Cruel? Yes. Amusing? Yes.
As for telling the kids that the pet was sent to live on a farm, that was never done in my family. First off, there wouldn’t have been any believable reason to send the pet to a farm. Secondly, most of the times when a pet had to be put down, we always knew it was either sick or injured, and knew that when sick or injured, things sometimes die. And, even when a pet actually did disappear, we would be told that it either got attacked my a wild animal or actually did run away - but that it probably ran away to die.
I do have an amusing scenario bouncing around in my head though. I picture a child being told by his parents that his dog had been sent away to live on a farm. The child asks his parents what the dog was going to do on the farm. They tell him that the dog would run around the fields, play with other dogs, chase some of the other animals, and keep wild animals away from the farm. The child is happy with what he’s told.
A week later, the child asks his parents how the dog is doing on the farm. His parents’ straight-faced, casual reply - “A bear came out of the woods and ate him.”
Anyhoo…
Wait, is that true? Do you mean they just buried the horse alive, or was she killed by the fall or something? :eek:
This may not seem as big a deal as a dog or cat, but I got in some big trouble anyway.
My sister had some fish. When my sister was about 10 and I was about 14, the fish got old, started to die, and my sister didn’t seem to be too interested in taking care of them. So, my parents and I decided that it would be a good idea to flush the fish down the toilet.
My mom came up with the great idea of telling my sister that the local hospital where my mom worked was doing some renovation (true) and was putting a large fish tank in the lobby (true) and we gave the fish to them (false). This small lie worked well and my sister felt that it was a good idea.
Cut to me, home from college for thanksgiving, at about 22 years old, and my sister is about 18. I decide to (stupidly, but unwittingly) tell the “hilarious” story of how we put one over on my sister, to some friends of the family.
Long story short, dinner is broken up with different people eating in different rooms of the house, and my sister barely talks to me till spring. We laugh about it now, but I just wish that somehow my parents had mentioned that they never told my sister.
I should have said “morbidly humorous”, rather than “morbidly candid”. No, Minnie was euthanized, then buried in a back field. But, I tend to use humor as a balm, even if the humor might be considered questionable by some. But my friends, parents and sister usually understand me. If they didn’t, I’d have been sent back to the hospital a long time ago. “We sent him away to live on a farm,” my family would tell the neighbors. 
A funny farm.
Anyhoo…
SO a farm is a NICE place for cats and dogs to go, huh? My great-grandparents live on a farm, and they’ve had bad luck with cats. One was carried away by a hawk and another was struck by lightning while drinking out of a metal water dish. :eek:
When their kids (my grandmother and great-uncle) were young, they were given pet ducklings. One day after the duck were full-grown, they came home from school and couldn’t find one of the ducks. That evening at dinner, their grandmother served them…roasted duck. They freaked out, and their grandmother couldn’t understand why. She grew up on an old-time farm. That’s what you DO with ducks.
I am obviously a very bad parent. Both times our previous cats were run over, I told my daughter thay were run over. It never occurred to me to do otherwise (also, in the second case it would have been hard to avoid, as she witnessed the cat lying motionless in the middle of the road, and me standing over it sobbing).
I confess - as parents Mr. Adoptamom and I have brought our children to be with Junior the Wonderdog as he was put to sleep AND we told the “country farm” story once.
Junior the Wonderdog was very old and the children knew his time was coming to an end. We went to the vets office as a family and all held him as the shot was given and he crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. We buried him in our back yard, next to his best friend W.C the car, and planted kate jasmin bushes in their memory.
On the other hand, we had Roxie, a dog who’d been with our family less than a year, that my son was very attached to. She was a dalmation/lab mix and the larger she grew the more unpredictable and aggressive she became. It was impossible to keep her either in the back yard or inside because she would barrel and push past all of us to gain freedom when the door or gate was opened. Eventually, she bit the neighbors little dog while our very elderly neighbor was holding it :eek: .
Our children knew she was a problem and coincidentally my husband (carpenter) was rebuilding someone’s home in the country so he told them she became a cow dog and was much happier living out there. To this day, he has refused to tell me the truth of what happened to that dog, but I suspect he did in fact bring her to the country but he put her down. He mentioned that he wouldn’t want another family getting the dog since she could be so aggresive.
Each time the client my husband was working for at the time calls to schedule some more carpentry work, my sons asks to go to work with my husband to see Roxie and each time my husband has offered one excuse after another why he couldn’t go. My heart breaks for both of them … my husband for doing what he felt he must do, and my son for missing his dog 
Or so they said…
One of my older brothers was deeply upset that mice were used in highschool to study anatomy. Even more so that all the remaining ones were killed before the summer vacations. So he decided with one of his friend to launch a commando operation to free the mice before the vacations. And succeeded. But he also brought back home a number of them.
The first one to die was killed on his lap when one of the three outdoor cats jumped on it and proceeded to ran away with its prey. All the following ones were killed in their cage by the cunning cats, despite the precautions taken by my brother to kep them safe and secure the cage.
The truth is that my mother, who couldn’t bear rodents, inspired by the first incident, deliberatly opened the cage so that the cats would get her rid of the mice.
Would that be Alexandre Dumass?
Depending on the circumstance, sniperfang, we generally don’t wanna see months-old threads to come back from the dead. Because of that, I’m going to send this one back to the grave.