He even began to tremble a little in his hind legs.
Within an instant, Bingo had gone from driven and manic to unsure, and needing comfort. Bill ended up stroking Bingo, who nuzzled against his legs, and rolled over anxiously.
"Barrie!" called Bill to my Dad, "I'll keep him in my yard, you phone Jack and Maude Colclough."
My Father did so, and when the Colcloughs arrived to collect their dog, they discovered him sitting outside Bill's gate. Bingo was delighted to see them, now ready to face whatever future his new home had for him.
"He's been waiting out by my gate for you," Bill told them, "He wouldn't come in my yard. Offered him some of my braising steak, but he wouldn't have it."
Bingo had allowed Bill to guide him up the backs, and toward Bill's gate, but he would not, oddly, cross the lintel. Bill had grasped Bingo's collar, and hauled with all his might, but Bingo dropped his weight toward the floor, and locked his legs in forceful protest - he would not be pulled, nor pushed, nor cajoled into the yard.
The Colcloughs were puzzled by Bingo's refusal to enter Bill's yard, and were apologetic about Bingo's latest return to the haunts that he could not bring himself to let go. This, however, was the last time we saw the dog. After this I assume he gave up his longing for life as it was, and, as far as I know, he must have accepted his life as it had become.
I shared a room with my brother, Ross, from the age of eleven until I left home, and it was several weeks after the final visit from Bingo, when Ross broke the gathering silence of late night:
"You still awake?"
"No, I'm asleep," I replied, as always.
"I saw something round Bill's yesterday. I've been thinking about it. I'm not sure what it is," Ross went on.
His voice carried the greatest degree of intensity I'd heard since he confessed to me that he'd stolen a football magazine from the local newsagent. Dad had found out, and he marched Ross round the corner to confess to the newsagent.
"Well ... what?"
"Don't start taking the mickey out of me," Ross began - not being taken seriously was among his greatest neuroses, as is the case for so many younger siblings.