Friday, 14 September 2012

Introducing Bingo

So I feel it’s only fair to introduce to you all, amongst all the chaos that Mollie causes, my second springer spaniel. Bingo.
Can usually be found looking like a sad old man.

Bingo is a rescue dog, and we got him from a dog rescue in Lincoln (Midwest England), after he had been found on the streets of Dublin, running around and foraging for food. Though when we first got him home, he wouldn’t really respond to us, would wolf down his food at a crazily speedy rate, and just generally be very on-edge, it didn’t take him very long at all to settle in and learn that our home was not a place he would have to defend his stake in his share of the food.
I cannot speak highly enough of his temperament; unlike Mollie, who probably, as a dog we bought as a puppy from a breeder, feels a bit entitled. It’s almost as though Bingo has a sort of gratitude, without anthropomorphising ($10 word there) too much, in contrast with his old life on the streets of Dublin.
Though he and Mollie don’t fight as such, they definitely don’t get on. It’s more like a tolerance between them that exists until Mollie decides that Bingo’s tenacity to actually exist in the same room as her is just not acceptable, and she will either:
a) Nip at his ears
b) Flaunt a toy in front of his face so that he tries to get it before flinging it away (see: The Newspaper Game).
c) Run into him and initiate full melee mode.

To be honest, we troll him a bit too.

All of this Bingo takes without even a nip in response. I’ve heard him growl at her, but it’s mainly when they play tug-o-war, when talking smack is part of the sport. But though I’m building up a picture of Bingo as an absolute angel in comparison to his surrogate sibling, he, like most dogs, has his moments as a troll. ESPECIALLY when we first got him, when he was a creature driven by food and food alone. Just ask my mother about the time she served carrot cake to her friends on the garden table, only to have a liver-and-white ninja stealthily leap onto the table, seize it and leap off without even disturbing the cups of tea beside him. And for a 30kg dog that’s no easy feat! Or the time my dad was preparing a sandwich, turned to grab the pepper, and faced only an empty plate upon return. Or the fact that we just (rather sadly), cannot let him off the leash at any point because he just turns into a feral version of himself, as though he remembers how things used to be before we took him in. He just doesn’t listen or respond to our calls, which is a total 180 from how he is when he is in the house. But that’s something that can be improved upon in time.
So oh yes, Bingo too can be a little troll when he wants to be. But as it’s a crown usually worn by Mollie at all times, Bingo does a wonderful job of being the dog who rolls his eyes when I’m chasing Mollie around for something, or telling her not to dig at the footmat at the door, or just having a staring stand-off with her when I’m SURE she’s up to something.

Usually with less fish-eye, but a stand-off nonetheless.

I swear, if Bingo could talk, he’d be my inside man (dog) to tell me the next deed she’s plotting.

Maybe. Once I stop playing with his face.

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