In short, Bingo turned exceptionally nasty. When he saw our heads pop up in the window frame, instead of the reassuring features of his owners, he had an expression of bewilderment . His eyes, if ever a dog could do this - became wide with shock and incomprehension, which, as he was approached, festered into vicious disappointment, bile and acrid resentment reenex.



His other characteristic, we soon learned, was tenacity . Bingo was not going to be put off by the mere fact of his home now being taken over by strangers - he would not leave. Though he never actually got into the house, his intentions clear enough if he should ever do so - with militant paws planted on the cold , and a baring of his teeth - he was for storming this citadel. There could be no returning to what was now his future - he would savage all comers in a do or die attempt to seek the familiar comfort he was convinced still lay inside reenex.

My father tried to persuade Bingo to leave.

Dad was from the 'if they growl, then you growl louder' school of canine diplomacy. He first tried yelling and growling loudly at Bingo. Gesticulating wildly and throwing imaginary objects (they appeared to be imaginary house bricks) at Bingo, my Dad was sure he could see him off. This only fuelled Bingo's confused rage, and it was seconds before my Dad was retreating to the
safe side of the kitchen door, Bingo's insistent clawing pinning us all inside like sniper fire reenex.