"The Last Shot"... the O'Connor Heirloom

One of the funny things about my family is we have very few possessions. If I can't move house in a car load I start to panic. By not being able to fit everything in a car it means that I have to stay put. I immediately start to realise that I'm in fact not able to leave in the space of a few hours... not that I ever would... but what if I had to? The thought of not being able to drive away from one place with all my worldly possessions to another scares me somewhat and yet I also have a shopping addiction so you can explain that irony. Of course the fact I can't open my car boot of my car is a concern but I'm trying not to let it take over too much. I figure the seats can be put down for more room. I think part of the reason I am like this is my family have a habit of good times turning into terrible times. We are the comeback family. We flog a dead horse for as long as possible. We simply find it difficult to let go of things when we are failing at them. This is not as depressing as it sounds. It's merely a case of never giving up. This I believe is why I have such loyalty to my own tv... the guilt of getting rid of it is too much to bear. And why should I give up on it when it never gave up on me?

Because of this we find ourselves not worrying too much about savings or expensive things and focus on the sentimental. Which brings me to the things that I possess. I have a birthday card from my parents from my 3rd birthday. I have set of green vases with yellow small swirls round the top which belonged to my grandad and when we cleared his house no one wanted them. Because noone wanted them they became my most favourite possession. The patheticness of them made me love them even more. My mum describes them as hideous. I however have bought duvet sets to match them and decorated whole rooms based on these vases.

I also have a book that I loved when I was little called "the detective guidebook". This book revolutionised my life as it made me cynical and suspicious about everything. I soon realised that the majority of people in life are "up to something". It was like my bible of childhood as I realised early on that men in macks are not to be trusted. I also have a tiny naked doll with a massive head and ginger hair... god only knows where her clothes went to... and a little plastic mermaid and seal which my brother gave me when I was about five for my birthday. These are just things I can't get rid of. I've lost friends, jobs and my mind at different times but I always know exactly where these things are! My brother has one of my grandad's dirty old pipes. He always knows exactly where this is and regularly takes it out and puts it in his mouth when he is thinking. His car keys however are a permanent mystery.

There are things that I know I will get in the future that I will not want particularly but will hold onto for the rest of my life. I'll give you an example. As a child I told my Irish Catholic grandmother that I loved the 2 pictures she had in her bedroom. Both are large black and white pictures. One is of Jesus dressed in a white gown holding his heart between his hands signifying the Sacred Heart. The other is of the Virgin Mary holding her heart. The gruesome thing about these pictures are that the hearts they are holding are real looking pumping bloody hearts that look as if they have been very recently ripped out of someone. There is a glow around these pictures which can be seen eerily when the lights are off. Their eyes peirce into you and the whole concept of the pictures are frightening and unnerving. My grandmother is now in her nineties. Her memory is practically gone and she always says she doesn't recognise me when she sees me ... but the one thing that never fades from her memory is the fact that I liked those pictures! She has told me a few hundred times that she has told everyone when she dies I will get those pictures. And so one day no doubt above the green vases will be the pictures of the sacred heart which will then move from house to house filling all children who visit with fear.

In our various moves over the years my family have lost things, things were broken, things destroyed but there is one thing that for some unknown reason remains unscathed. This is our "heirloom"! It is a china drinks dispenser in the shape of a dog. This dog has been in every house I ever remember. He is brown and white and looks like life has dealt him a hard blow. He has given up. There is a big tear coming from his big droopy eyes and he looks dejected and well if i'm honest and I hope he doesn't mind me saying... he's suicidal! His paw is up holding a gun above his head and this can be removed with a cork at the bottom of it to dispense the drink. At the bottom is a wind up musical box with the words printed "the last shot". As kids we loved this dog but we were very concerned about him having the gun above his head so instead we always had it turned round to face the ground and for safety reasons we tied a small red and white check ribbon round the gun to stop the trigger being pulled... just in case. All three of us kids love this heirloom. It signifies everything about our family. The patheticness of the dog, giving it your last shot and the fact that we don't want him to give up!

Now our mother for some reason unknown to us and one which we would never understand anyway hates this dog. Which is quite unfortunate for her because it lives in her house! Numerous times I have had to lift the heirloom out of a box going to the charity shop or boot sale. Every time my mum tries to get rid of it I immediately ring my brother and sister and dobb her in! We all get defensive and protective and tell our mum it's our heirloom and she can never get rid of it. The lack of respect she shows for it by calling it junk of course makes us love it all the more! We unite against our parent as a show of solidarity for the dog.

To some "the last shot" may seem tacky or distasteful. For us it is part of our make up as a family. Our loyalty to it knows no bounds and I always have a sneaky suspicion that "the last shot" will be the one thing that makes our family rich in some way. I suspect it has the combination to a safe where our ancestors buried their gold bullion. When us three kids used to play my brother used to pretend to fall down the stairs and when he got to the bottom he always used to pretend to be dying. As he lay on his back feigning death he would always grab one of us by the arm and say in a slow dying voice "the treasure is hidden in a safe. The combination to the safe is 4, 6.... "and before he could finish he would fake die! My sister and I would try to resucitate him but he never came back to life to tell us the full combination. I used to think why when he is fighting death does he always start with the treasure is hidden in a safe? Why didn't he shorten it so he had time to give the full combination?

And so I expect that the full combination to the safe my brother so often referred to is in fact in the depths of the music box of "the last shot". I doubt any of us however would be prepared to break it to find out and so we will remain paupers with all our junk but we will be loyal till the end!

I dedicate this blog to "the last shot" - You have brought much joy to 3 O'Connor kids ... we will not forsake you!