Bingo Was His Name, OH!

I don’t like dogs. Let that be said first; at the top.

There are stray dogs all over the place here in Georgia. They are in the cities and in the towns and villages. Being stray, they of course range from nasty and mangy to ‘simply lost’ looking. I mostly see them roaming alone, but occasionally they run in packs. That’s when I am most afraid. As a rule, Georgians hate and are afraid of dogs. Because of that they tend to intermittently run from or kick and throw things at them. So the dogs take the long way around when crossing paths with humans… safety first.

A few Georgians have dogs as pets in town. (It’s more common to have a dog for a pet if they live in the village for obvious reasons.) I unfortunately have a dog as a pet in my new host family. His name is Bingo.

He is an old dog and old dogs don’t like new people. For the first couple of meetings he barked at me constantly. I even did the ‘meeting new dog tricks’ of a) not acting fearful, b) talking nicely to him, and c) letting him smell my hand, which was lower than his nose.  Now, once I have been in the house for a while, he has stopped barking. But that doesn’t mean he has accepted me.

The other day he was hanging out on the patio and I passed him after being around him (and the house) all day. I went to scratch his head, and he snapped at me! Stupid dog. They thought he bit me. But he didn’t. I wouldn’t have taken that as easily. He would have become my mortal enemy.

So with that psychological damage, I am weary of coming close to him. He tends to sleep in the patio area, which we have to pass to go up the stairs. It’s like walking past a sleeping wolverine. And to make matters worse, at night it’s pitch black when walking downstairs to the bathroom with only my phone flashlight. I feel like I’m in a horror movie creeping down the stairs looking for that dog.  Is he under the stairs? Behind the door? Will I step on him leaving the bathroom?

None of the above has happened yet.


There was a farmer who had a dog,
And Bingo was his name-o.
And Bingo was his name-o.

B-I-N-G-O, Camp Song


2 responses to “Bingo Was His Name, OH!

Holla atcha boy!

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