Bingo's Adventures

Every adventure has a beginning. Bingo’s began in our home in Switzerland, where he lived with his mom, Judit, a quilter and designer, and his papa, Bill, a retired lawyer, hobby jazz musician, devoted gardener—and frequent fence mender, mostly because Bingo considered fences more of a challenge than a boundary.

Some Saturdays were simply meant for visiting friends.

Bingo seemed to know before anyone said a word. The moment Bill reached for his leash, Bingo was already waiting by the door, tail wagging furiously.

“We’re going to the Homberg,” Bill said.

The creek wasn’t terribly wide, but it tumbled cheerfully over the rocks, making enough noise to suggest that getting across might require some thoughtful planning.

Bingo looked upstream. Through the trees he could see a little wooden footbridge.

It was also quite a long way away.

There was always something interesting out there—a hedgehog rustling through the leaves, a cat taking an unauthorized shortcut, or a mysterious new smell drifting in from the meadow. Bingo simply had to know what was going on.