Malaprop Moments, Part Deux: Chupacabra

Malaprop Moments happen to everyone, and as I revealed in my last blog on the topic, I am not immune.

I also promised the last blog that there was (at least) one more Malaprop Moment that I would share to prove my point.

Once again, the cast of characters includes me and my friend Diane, who seems to bring out the Ms. Malaprop in me.

Last time, the confusion was around the human anatomy. This time, the theme was dogs.

Diane and her clan have been life-long fans of furry, four-legged family members. When we met, her beloved Dwight was on his last legs and soon crossed The Rainbow Bridge.

Two months later, against her better judgment and a vow of "No more dogs!" Diane found herself unable to bear the family's moping and downheartedness and welcomed Duddy into the household on the Ides of March.

Then came Sallie, whose story was so colorful that I forgot all about Duddy and all the jokes I was crafting about "Et Tu, Brutus." 

Sallie's human parents, Diane's nephew and wife, rescued Sallie from an alley six years prior in California and called her Alley. Then they had a human child whom Alley bit. No one would take Sallie, and as Diane said, "It was gonna be curtains for her."

Unable to bear her nephew's tears, Diane agreed to take Alley and renamed her Sallie.

A few weeks later, Diane and I were waiting for our cherubs to finish their piano lessons when I asked how life was with Sallie in the mix.

"Oh, she is a pure Chupacabra! She's into everything, wreaking havoc!"

"Chupacabra" was a new word to me, but in context, I deduced (quite erroneously) that it must be Sally's breed.

I don't know why I didn't think to ask anything further; probably out of sheer exhaustion from my life's work as Juber, the Family Chauffeur and Grand Administrator of All Life's Details. 

Or maybe the kids were done with lessons, and my focus shifted to the next destination, which I was hoping involved a nap. 

Suffice to say, I gave no more thought to Sallie until a few weeks later, when I was talking with Diane's and my mutual friend, Marie.

"So I hear Diane got a new dog!" Marie said, "What kind of dog is it?"

"You know, I'm not exactly sure, but Diane called her a 'Chupacabra,' so I'm guessing it's some kind of Mexican breed."

"Oh, that sounds exotic," Marie said. And once again, the subject changed, most likely because Marie and I were somewhere else, waiting for our kids.

In case you, like me, have never heard of 'Chupacabra,' let me tell you: IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH DOGS.

A Chupacabra is a demon. 

Not just any demon, mind you. A creature that is said to attack and drink the blood of livestock, including goats.

Yet, here I was, living my life, continuing to think that Diane adopted a unique breed that was misbehaving the way dogs are wont to do.

Finally, the day came (and it may have been several months later) when I asked Diane, "What kind of dog is Sallie? You said 'Chupacabra'; is that some kind of Mexican breed?"

Once again, Diane was speechless.

"A Chupacabra is a monster, not a dog breed! Why didn't you Google it?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess I could have done that."

Sometimes, I'm Judi 411; other times, I'm Judi 404.

Epilogue: In fairness, I was close in guessing Sallie's breed: She was a chihuahua, or as Diane referred to her, "a criminal I harbored for six years until she died on Joe's (her husband's) lap unbeknownst to him on 2/24/2020. She had the good sense to cut out in advance of the Coronafest. The End."