Memory is a funny thing. We generally think our childhood memories are set in stone, but then evidence comes up and bites one in the arse.
Case in point. I watched a movie as a child, called "Where the Red Fern Grows". It is a very touching movie, about the love of a boy for his dogs, two Irish Setters. The dogs die prematurely, and a rare red fern grows on their grave.
I loved this movie. It was right up there with "Black Beauty", and "The Incredible Journey", and "Watership Down" - books that I read over and over again, and, in fact, still own.
I loved watching TV shows about animals, reading books about animals, watching movies about animals... but "Where the Red Fern Grows" sticks in my memory more than the rest. It was such a sad movie, and it was about dogs, and I remember it so well.
Except one major thing.
Those dogs weren't Irish Setters.
They were Redbone Coonhounds.
So much for my memory. Sigh.