Before her ooh-la-la Buenos Aires trip, my cousin Pazzo’s mom, being a very diligent reader of my blog, said the Jesus of the Broken Arm story reminded her of her own Catholic school raffle tale. Who knew raffles were such a regular thing in those hallowed halls of hemline-checking?
Moreover, her story involves a canine, which makes it perfect for my blog. But unlike my mom’s story, hers has a painful ending.
So the nuns announce a raffle, and instead of the prize being a religious object, it is a puppy! A classmates’ dog, apparently, had a litter, and what better way to raise money from the school than raid those poor little plaid jumper pockets?
Given that leftover fruitcake was the only other uh, prize, ever offered at Mom’s school, the nuns over at Pazzo’s mom’s place perhaps had some kindness in them. Of course, for those of us who believe that DOG is GOD, a puppy is an object of religious veneration.
Perfect prize, except that Pazzo’s mom has no money at all in her plaid jumper pocket and the entry fee is 10 cents. Her friend, however, has an entire dollar. Pazzo’s mom not only finagles the entry fee from the friend, she wins the puppy!
Except that when she comes home with this adorable, cute, squirming puppy in her arms, her parents practically shriek and can’t get it out of the house fast enough.
Later on, they did get a puppy, a tiny black poodle thing named Pierre, but no one seemed to like him much.