Antelope Valley Blogs

Can you remember the first dog you ever had and what that dog’s life meant to you growing up. My first dog was called Bingo and I had him from the time I was born. Bingo was a mix of probably some Scotty and who knows what else. He was a short dog only about 1' to 1' 4" tall and was black in color, some white on his stomach and a few white whiskers on his face.

Bingo seemed to take a liking to me and would go everywhere I would go, he was my shadow. He wouldn’t follow unless he was invited when I left the yard, but he would stand right out at the edge waiting on that call he loved to hear the most, here Bingo and off he went just as fast as his legs would take him.

He would always be there, right by my side through rain or snow Bingo was there.

After watching the western shows on TV, Bingo would sometimes ask to be the horse that pulled the wagon that made up the only wagon in our newly formed wagon train .Sometimes when I would find myself shot from one of those Indian arrows, just play like arrows that just happened to be shot from that play like Indian friend of mind, old Bingo would end up standing by his master’s side licking my face to help heal my wounds.

Bingo was an outside dog at first, my mom didn’t think dogs belonged in the house, but on one of those freezing cold winters in Oklahoma mom moved him to the garage. He was given a nice bed of one of mom’s old blankets to lie on, it was still very cold in that garage but Bingo didn’t complain. He would just settle in, walking around a few times getting the blanket just the way he wanted it before he would lay down for the night. The next day he would always be up and ready for his food and a trip through the neighborhood with his best buddy, me.

One day it was the coldest I could remember in Bartlesville, people all over were talking about just how cold it was. On the news it had shown how cattle had frozen the night before. That garage didn’t have any heat in it, just that old blanket to lie on and hope that it would keep Bingo warm enough. That day I think was the first time my mother made eye contact with Bingo, she opened the door to feed Bingo and there he was, just standing looking up at her as if to say, it sure is cold in here. After that, Bingo was an inside dog and he wasn’t just my dog any more, he was the family dog.