Bingo

As a young girl, I had a slight obsession with the idea of having a dog, however my parents were less than thrilled with the idea. When I was about 8 or 9, they caved and we picked up this cute black and white pup at the Humane Society, naming her Molly. She was some sort of shepherd, border collie mix and grew very quickly to become a tall, lanky thing. We would clip her lead to the clothesline in the back yard, giving her extra room to run. And run she did, but she also barked. A lot. It was a constant annoyance, every moment she was out there. My memories of Molly are fuzzy, but I'm really not sure why she had to spend so much time outside alone rather than in the house. Maybe she'd just gotten too big?

One day, Molly broke free and took off. I remember sitting in school all day wondering if she'd be there when we arrived back at home. To our surprise, she was! However, the very next day when we got up for school, she was gone again. I held onto hope that she would return, but we never saw Molly again.

Over the next few years, my campaign for another dog was unrelenting. It was at the top of my Christmas list every year, I mentioned it every chance I got, and even wrote letters to my parents, begging for a dog - it was all I ever wanted and I'd never ask for a single thing again! Christmas of the year I was 13 (I think?), I was sure I'd convinced them. I just knew there would be a puppy under the tree for me - no such luck. I was crushed.

Dad had stayed home from work with us during the week following Christmas while we were on break. One day, a few days after Christmas, he loaded us up in the car and we were shocked to end up at a tiny pet shop in town. Inside, waiting for us was a tiny white fur-ball with brown on his ears, and he was coming home with us!

Bingo was part Maltese and part Cocker-Spaniel, and he wound up leaning towards the temperament of the Cocker. He was particular to say the least. He did NOT like strangers, especially men, and don't even think about getting near him while he was eating if you'd like to keep all your fingers. But he loved us, and I loved him. I'd dress him up in baby sleepers with feet and watch him run around the house looking so funny. When I started dating, he was not exactly happy to share me and made it very known. He was my constant companion after Dad passed and shared a bed with me every night.

When I moved out after high school, I could only bring the cat to my apartment, so Bingo stayed with mom and my brother. Eventually, my nephew was born and lived there as well. Bingo was not thrilled with the new toddling, noisy creature, and so it was decided that he would go live with my Aunt and her friend. They gave him all the pampering he could take for the last couple of years of his life, and I'll be forever grateful.

As for Molly, it turns out she wasn't lost after all. I found out decades later that my dad had taken her to work with him on that fateful morning and delivered her to a new family, where I hope she was happier. I couldn't believe we never knew the truth - in fact, I think my brother just found out last year! At the time, it would have been unforgivable, but now, as a parent myself, I understand. We all just have so many plates we can keep spinning at once, after all.