Po's Peek at the Past: Opposites Attract

There’s an old adage that says, “opposites attract.” When it comes to how my wife and I were raised in different types of households, this expression hits the proverbial nail on the head. The verbal variations in each of our families was most apparent when each family attempted to retell an occurrence or event.

The following exemplifies my point.

The real story

About 30 years ago we owned a yellow lab named Taffy. She wandered too far away from our yard one day and ended up on Route 869 just west of the town of New Enterprise. When she returned, she kept looking over her shoulder toward the road. She barked, looked back toward the road and barked again. This went on for about 3 or 4 minutes and none of us in our family had any idea what was going on.

A short time later, the phone rang. It was a friend of my son who called to tell us that he had witnessed Taffy being barely bumped by a car on the main road. He said she demonstrated no signs of being injured and immediately ran up the hill and back to our house. That was it. By the time we got the call, Taffy had returned to being her normal self.

My family’s version of the story

I told my older sister what happened later that evening. She called my parents to fill them in and my mom called my aunt. My two other siblings found out about it, too. By the time I talked to my younger sister Stacie, in Ohio, the following evening, the story had been over-embellished beyond recognition.

“Dave, I heard about Taffy!” Stacie exclaimed to me on the phone. She went on to say something like, “I was told she disappeared for a long while, and when she returned she was very aggressive and wouldn’t allow anyone on your property. And she wouldn’t stop looking toward the neighbors’ homes, all the while barking, growling and snarling at everyone and everything she saw.”

I attempted to cut her off, but I had no chance to get a word into the conversation. She continued... “We also heard that Taffy refused to go into the house and that she only wanted to lie in the yard, facing the road, focusing only on defending the family and warning you of some kind of impending doom.”

She concluded with some questions. “Is it true that she acted the same way today, too? Fur ruffed? Relentless barking and growling? Refusing to be petted?”

When I finally got the chance to relate the true story to her, we both roared with laughter because we both were well-aware of just how badly our family had to make every tale a matter of life and death. And if anything was to be re-told, it must be thrilling and suspenseful enough to hold the interest of anyone listening. We concurred that only a genetic link could be responsible for this characteristic to exaggerate.

My wife’s family’s retelling of the tale

“Taffy barked.”