Parental lies that you believed

Mine, for some reason, all involve pets:

The Runaway Goldfish: When I was 6 or 7, I won a goldfish at a carnival. Being a kid, I figured this new pet would be around for a while, and I was pretty excited to have my very own pet (we had a dog that was a “family” dog). Two days after getting it all set up in its new home, I come home and it’s gone from the bowl. My dad explained that the little guy was lonely, so he must have jumped out of his bowl (kept on a counter near the sink) and swam down the drain and into Lake Michigan to be with the other fish. I felt bad, but at least the fish was happy. A few months later, I won another fish. this time, I insisted that we go get him a girlfriend immediately. Dad agreed. A few days later, guess what? Apparently, as much as they enjoyed their little home, they needed a little more socialization.

The Runaway Dog: Right around the same time, we got a new puppy. We already had a dog at the time, but my parents brought home this adorable little St. Bernard puppy. We called him Shamus. We had him for a few months. One day, I came home, and he was gone. My parents said that he had run away because they left the gate open. I said we had to look for him, put ads in the paper, etc. They said, sure, they’d do all that stuff. I even asked my dad weeks later if they’d heard anything. He said that a guy had called and he had found Shamus, and taken him to live on his farm. Since Shamus would grow up to be a big dog, farm living would be good for him. I was satisfied knowing that my parents had done all they could, and that Shamus would be happy on his farm.

Fast forward a couple years. Our old dog had died. We had acquired a puppy named Butch. Long story short, Butch was an awful dog. Very hyper, very excitable, prone to biting when he was nervous. Not a good dog for kids, but I loved him. One day, I come home, and Mom and Dad are heading out the door with Butch. I offer to go with them for a walk. They make excuses, and finally explain that they’re giving Butch away to someone else. By the time they get home, I’ve put two and two together.

Me: Shamus didn’t run away, did he?
Mom: Excuse me?
Me: Did Shamus run away or did you give him away, too?
Mom: (long explanation resulting in, “Yes we did”)
Me: (long pause) Is he at least on a farm?
Mom: What?
Dad: I’ll explain later, honey.

So, who else has believed a lie from your parents, and how long was it before you found out the truth?

So, was the dog given away to a farm, or did they have him put down or something? And did you ever ask why they did it? You didn’t mention whether the dog was misbehaved or anything…

The idea of parents getting rid of pets behind their kids’ backs is rather creepy.

(showing my age here)

I was a little precocious, but I used to watch the news sometimes when I was a little kid with my dad. Each week, they’d show the deaths in Vietnam, any from the area, and the total US/VC counts. They were always like 185-2125. About 10 times as many Vietnamese. Asked my dad why we hadn’t won already if we always won 10-1. He hemmed and hawed, and said the Chinese were sending over help, etc.

   Wasn't until years later I realized he was just trying to avoid saying "Your government is lying to you, kid." How could you tell that to a 8 or 9 year old? Those were much more innocent days. Sometimes I miss them... and I always miss him...

When I was little (like maybe 3), my parents gave a music box to my sister. I thought it was the most lovliest thing in the world (of course, this is at a time when I thought pick polka dotted shirt went beautifully with my red checked shorts, too)

I told me mom that I would like one, too. Mom said they cost $100. so, I patiently would ask every now and then if she’d saved the $100 for the music box.

I never got one. (sniff)

Many years later, I was reflecting upon my childhood, remember this and thought ‘hey, wait a minute…’

This one is a cat story…

My sister had this cat she named Kit Kat. The meanest animal I’d ever seen. He’s scratch you just as soon as look at you (and I’ll never forget the time I was in the bathtub and my sister was standing next to the tub talking to me, holding the damn cat and he scratched her. Cats REALLY don’t like water.) My sister loved this cat though and wouldn’t pay attention to anything my mom, dad or I said about how mean it was. One day, when Sister-Pisces and I came home from school, Kit Kat was missing. We lived way out in the boonies, so SP was afraid that maybe he’d get caught by a wolf or something. She wanted to go look for him. Mom told her no, of course, that he’d be fine…

About 6 months later, we had gone down to town (remember, BFE here… this was excitement! :wink: )when SP saw Kit Kat running around in front of the junkyard. SP wanted Mom to stop so she could bring him back home. That’s when Mom finally had to admit that she’d given him to the guy that worked for my dad.

I don’t think my sister has ever trusted her since then.

I was trying to keep the story from getting too long, so I left out the details. I was told at the time that Shamus was really unhappy here, and that they had given him to a home where he’d be happier. Years later, when we were talking about this, I got the whole story: The dog we already had (Kaiser) had been my mom’s since she was 16. He was a huge dog (German Shepherd/Lab mix), and he was getting really old. My parents had gotten Shamus not so much as a “replacement,” but they thought it would ease the pain when the inevitable happened and Kaiser died (which happened probably a year or so later).
It turned out that Kaiser was not thrilled with the new addition. He was getting crankier in his old age, especially since he was in pain a lot. He would snap at Shamus, and growl at him. My parents were afraid that the two dogs (Shamus was a St. Bernard and would be getting huge) would end up hurting each other or one of us kids one day. So Shamus had to go. The reason they lied was that my sister and I loved that dog. They didn’t want us to be mad at Kaiser because they gave Shamus away.
Some people probably think it was wrong to lie to us, and I was really mad at the time. But looking back, I think they did the right thing.
(BTW, I never got confirmation on this, but I’m pretty sure that Shamus didn’t end up on a farm).

Mine was my cat Pepper. I can have moments of swiftness so I caught on and threw the Nightmarish Tantrum Of My Life (Episode 7835)

But mostly, my parents were decently good about not lying to me. I love being the first of a pair of academics.

The lie:
“You are my husbands child.”

If you’ve ever seen ‘King of the Hill’ I look like Bobby’s friend Joseph.

Talk about gullible!

Boy is that a hard one to swallow.
Everyone knows the government is always right! Jeez. Silly lurker, Communism is soooooooo alive and well.


Hey, who am I to argue with a Trained Killer and Devil Worshipper....

We had an orange cat calle Fuzzy Wuzzy. One day I saw him run under my parents’ bed, and I never saw him again. I asked my mom what had happened to him, and she told me that he ran away. I kept insisting, “I know where he is! He’s under your bed!” I kept looking for him under there, but I never found him. :frowning:

What had happened of course, is that it was just coincidence that the last time I saw him he was running under the bed. He was old and ill and he was taken to be euthanized that day.

To this day, some 25 years later, if I am at my parents’ house, I’ll take a look under the bed to make sure Fuzzy Wuzzy isn’t under there.

Good! Besides, everyone knows the Government doesn’t lie to you!

It’s more like “faulty advertising”. :smiley:

Oh my God, I just realized that Ernie the Super Beagle probably didn’t go to the farm, either. :eek:!

Holy shit. I really thought he had gone to the mailman’s farm to run free over the hills and dales.

Um, I guess that counts as one lie (I am seriously shocked here!). I was gonna say (before I learned of the other disappearing farm dogs) that I really believed you had to be married to have children. My mom told me, I believed her until I was about 12, and my cousin had a child out of wedlock. Of course, I had yet to figure out where babies came from, and basically it was all a mystery until that fateful bus trip in ninth grade.

I can’t believe the farm thing was a lie! My goodness!

When I was a pre-schooler, we had a collie named Lady. At least we did for a while. I don’t know if I was told this or just assumed, but we had to get rid of her because my sister was afraid of dogs.

Just a few years ago, I learned the reason Lady had to go was that she’d gone into heat and was “visited” by some neighborhood mongrel. With 3 kids under age 5, Mom didn’t want to deal with a preggers dog, so that was that. The thing that ticks me off is that I resented my sister for years because of her fear of dogs.

Kinda makes me wonder how many other things I know are wrong… thanks, mom…

As a kid I’d spend part of summer on my Aunty and Uncle’s farm. He was a quiet sort. One summer I was with him when he went round the pig-pens with what looked like a huge pair of pliers. I asked what he was doing to the little piggies (who were squealing like banshees). Uncle looks embarrassed, decides he doesn’t want to get into a long debate about stuff he’s obviously not happy talking to me about, and announced that he’s removing their ‘kidneys’.

I’ve unconsciously linked them with testicles ever since then; still can’t look a steak & kidney pie in the eye, much less contemplate eating one. Euuch.

One year, we went on vacation to the beach for a week or so. A few weeks after we got home, the cat went missing. My brother and I were very upset about it (I think I was about 7), and Dad told us the cat heard what a good time we had at the beach, so he’d gone to the beach himself to have a vacation. Dad told us all about how cats love fish, and so the cat would be fishing down there.

My brother had a rabbit called Fraggle. The hutch had a lock on it, but the screws holding the latch had come loose, so you could just flip the door open. One night a dog got into the yard, and somehow flipped the lid open. Mum and Dad heard the dog, and came out and scared it away, but Fraggle escaped too. The next day, Mum didn’t say anything, she just sent us to school. When we got home, Dad told us what had happened. My brother was really upset, and wanted to go look for the rabbit, so Dad told him that Fraggle had gone to live in the pines with all the other rabbits. My brother perked up, and was really happy with this, and for many years after, would say “Hello, Fraggle” whenever we drove past the pines. Mum only told me recently that Dad spotted Fraggle’s body on his way to work the next day - he’d been hit by a car.

Finally, we had pet mice. We had a few favourites, but the main one was called Punky. He was always the runt, and a bit sickly, but there came a time when Punky got really sick. Now, my odd brother had a passion for burying things at the time this happened. He would catch butterflies and things and make little cardboard coffins and bury them in his graveyard behind the shed, complete with little twig crosses. When we got up one morning, and Dad said Punky had died in the night, we were upset, but my brother’s first question was “Where did you put his body? I want to bury him.” I noticed Dad stuttering a little over the answer, but my brother didn’t - Dad said Punky was already buried, and showed my brother the spot in the garden where he’d buried him. My brother laid flowers on that spot weekly for at least a year after. Dad told me later he’d come in to check on Punky and found him dead, so he threw him in the bin. He didn’t want my brother to know, and I’m not sure we’ve ever told him!

When I was a kid, around the end of every year we’d go to bed one night and the next day there would be tons of presents all wrapped up on the floor…

My parents told me this Big Fat Guy in a red suit just travelled around the world handing out presents to kids for no good reason. They didn’t even TRY to make it believeable, I asked how he got places and they said he used a sled pulled by FLYING REINDEER. When I asked where he got the money for the toys they said he had an ARMY of elves that made them, for no reason other than they were elves and that’s what elves do.

Then, one year, my mother blurted out “You know there’s no such person as Santa Claus, right?” I mean, I’d had my doubts, but for her to come out and tell me she’d been downright lying the whole time…

It was devestating.

:smiley: This post was made with tongue planted in cheek

My father convinced me that the tooth fairy existed because of how he told me (in graphic detail) about how he saw her flying out the window. He also had a good answer for every prodding question I asked.

I wish I would have remembered how easy it was for him to lie before I trusted the SOB.


One time, at the tender age of thirteen, I was asking my mom about Fleetwood Mac and why they didn’t tour. She told me that it was because Lindsay Buckingham had died of a drug overdose. Imagine my surprise when, in the early 90s, the guy releases a new solo CD.

Pretty good for a dead guy.

Turns out that mom wasn’t lying, though… just misinformed.

I even chuckle to myself whenever I see that reunion concert on TV. Heh. “Drug overdose”. Heh.

…I need a friend.
[sub]Okay, so I didn’t know this was turning into a thread about domesticated animals[/sub]
…well, I did have this pet rock that my dad-

-Never mind.

The friggin tooth Fairy (who later turned out to be my dad)