I’m a rather sad blogger this evening. Our dog, Bingo, died suddenly today — a ‘catestrophic internal haemorrhage’ according to the vet that meant that we had to have him put down.
We became Bing’s family by accident. We didn’t own a dog and didn’t particularly want one when Mrs P first saw him at a friend’s house. They had spotted him several days running on Werneth Low evidently lost or abandoned. They took him in to hand over to the police.
For Mrs P it was love at first sight. This was on a Saturday and she came home wondering whether we should take him in. The shall we, shan’t we debate went on for 24 hours until finally I settled the issue by claiming him from the police station.
I hadn’t seen him then so there was an odd look from the policeman when he asked me to describe him and of course I said I couldn’t. Anyway, I took him home and he was an instant hit with the kids.
It was Master Parrot who named him Bingo. He was four years old and at that age the children’s song, ‘B-I-N-G-O and Bingo was his name-o.’
That was nine years ago and he has been the perfect family dog ever since, apart from being a would-be killer of small furry animals (he never caught one) and picking fights he couldn’t win with our other dog, Jack.
We reckon he was about five years old when we got him, so he would have been 14 when he died. He had obviously been well cared for, had been neutered, so someone had obviously instead time and money in Bing.
The only theory we have is that he got there by accident. One odd habit of his was to get into any, and I mean any open car door. Had he been driven there unbeknownst to the driver?
He will be missed and perhaps the words of vet previously make a suitable epitaph — Bingo. A very polite dog.