Go figure: B 1--I 14

His name is Bingo. Yes, that’s his name, the name I gave him when I won him at a Bingo table. He’s white as snow, has a brass chain around his fat neck and is taller than our three year old son. Jerry has not yet gotten used to him, won’t let me put Bingo in his room at night. I don’t push. We just prop him on the sofa every night before Henry and I go to bed.

The two nights a week we have dinner in our dining room, I put Bingo in the chair across from Jerry. Henry and I include Bingo in all of our conversations, address questions to him and  put a plate with a sweet roll in front of him. ‘Bingo,’ I say, ‘Isn’t Jerry a good boy. Look, he ate all of his vegetable soup.’ Addressing Bingo, I ask if he wants to play with Jerry later,  walk behind him and shake his head ‘yes.’ Jerry ignores us.  He eats and accidentally spills his milk on his shirt. I give him a few paper napkins to wipe himself off. He tries. He cries, ‘Bingo do it.’

I give up temporarily and tell them all, ‘Mommie’s going to do the dishes. Henry, you and Jerry walk Bingo into the living room and watch Dora the Explorer. I’ll be in soon.’ Jerry whines. ‘I’m sleepy, Mommie. Take me upstairs and tell me a story.’ I tell him Daddy and Bingo will take him upstairs but he wiggles off his chair and goes by himself.

Henry and I have had it with Bingo. He takes the bear down the cellar, sticks him in a corner and throws a seedy blanket over him. I hear him coming up the steps to read to a book to Jerry who asks, ‘Where’s Bingo?’ Henry tells him the truth. ‘Daddy, read the new Dora the Explorer book to me. I will find the apple and the river.  And he does find both before his eyes close and a slight smile peeps from his lips.

At ten, Henry and I go to bed. We talk awhile, kiss lightly, squeeze hands and our eyes reach Sleepville.  It seems just a few minutes but it is 3:30 a.m. when our security alarm scares us almost to death. I run to Jerry first. He is still sleeping thru the clatter. Jerry is already downstairs, a five iron in one hand and a heavy Montifiorrie paperweight in his other. The police drive up, see our lights on and ring the bell. ‘What’s the trouble, Sir? We received a break-in call from your service. Jerry just shrugs and tells them he has no idea. Both officers unsheathe their weapons, turn on the basement light and walk down the wooden stairs. ‘Stay up here, Mr. Christian.’ One calls up to ask us to come down. ‘The basement door has been jimmied. Notice anything missing?’ he asks.  Henry looks at the cartons of old clothes for Good Will, his no longer working computer.’ Everything looks OK, Officer.’
‘Well, somebody got in here. Any explanation, Sir?’ Neither Henry nor I have any. He suddenly realizes Bingo is gone and tells the officer about the toy and its sheet cover. They laugh at us, tell us to get a new security system that covers the entire house  and they drive away.

‘Too much excitement,’ I tell Henry. ‘Let’s go back to bed. I’ll just look in again on Jerry.’ ‘Henry, Henry, come in here,’ my wife calls.

Jerry doesn’t even know we are in his room. Bingo is sitting on the floor, next to Jerry. In his lap is a paw full of black, coarse hair.