And Bingo was his name-o

Bingo lives around the corner – he has a very similar profile to Toby. They’re both about the same size, have ridiculously large, erect ears, a long nose and an intelligent face (I don’t care that I’m biased).

Two nights ago, Bingo’s dad came by with a care package. A squeaky cheeseburger (can never have enough of those), a bunch of awesome and fancy chews and some garden tomatoes for Toby’s human family. Toby knew immediately that the box was for him – it must’ve smelled of all sorts of goodness. After chasing and squeaking his cheeseburger and gobbling down one of his chews, he was out for the night.

He’s still sleeping a lot, but he’s tried to play with Timmy, his feline brother, and seems more sure of himself on our hardwood floor and linoleum.

On our walks around the block, he’s quite speedy and even tried to chase a squirrel up a tree (of course, the squirrel deserved it!). The neighbors have been very concerned and saddened, but we’re trying our best to change their pity to something more upbeat about the fact that Toby’s injuries were not worse, that he’s making such a good recovery, that he’s hopping around the neighborhood in a spiffy vest staring down the squirrels.