By David Shapiro

Saturday, February 8, 1997

Baby and dog mix
OK in this household

People kept warning me that dogs and babies don't mix. I worried about the fate of our Shar-pei Bingo when our grandson Corwin was born and would be living with us.

My wife Maggie and my daughter Treena told me I had to start thinking about making Bingo an outside dog, causing me great distress. Bingo is a run-of-the-house kind of dog and I like it that way.

Bingo, the
Shar-pei

I like how he naps under my recliner no matter how many times I forget he's there and crash the hassock down on him when I get up. He wants to stay close to me so he can nuzzle his neck against my leg if I happen to drop it down.

I don't know how I'd get through the nights without the comfort of Bingo snuggled up on the floor against the side of my bed, snoring peacefully. When I leave for work at 3:45 a.m., he dutifully gets up, walks me to the door, accepts a pat on the head and goes back to sleep when I leave.

Corwin, the
grandson

So when Corwin was born, I put my foot down and asserted Bingo's rights. "Sorry, kid," I said, "but the dog was here first and you're going to have to fit yourself into his space." Bingo has kept his sweet disposition through many provocations and has more than justified my confidence in him.

For instance, Corwin has a magnetic attraction to Bingo's bones. He can be surrounded by 40 of the finest toys, but only Bingo's bone on the floor across the room interests him.

In his early months, he was immobile and could only dream about the bones. But one day when nobody was looking, Corwin pulled himself up on his elbows and huffed and puffed his way all the way across the family room to Bingo's favorite old rawhide chew. We found the baby gurgling happily on his back gnawing the bone.

Treena and Maggie were horrified to see such a filthy thing in the baby's mouth. I was more worried that the baby's mouth - along with the rest of his head - would become disconnected from his body when Bingo saw what was going on.

But the dog showed remarkable restraint. He waited patiently while we wrestled the bone out of Corwin's determined grip. Then he spent every waking hour of the next six days looking for a place to hide it out of the baby's reach.

When Corwin sees the Shar-pei's trademark curly little tail wagging, his eyes bug out like Roger Rabbit getting a load of the lovely Jessica. At first Corwin was too noisy to get to the tail. All the groaning and whining when he labored to move made it tough for him to sneak up on anybody.

The smile on his face was never bigger than the day he got the tail and held on with all his might. Bingo had never been so affronted and didn't seem to know what to do. He dragged the kid around the carpet a few times to try to shake him, but Corwin loved the ride and wouldn't let go.

Finally, Bingo just patiently waited for Corwin to loosen his grip and extricated himself. No barking, no growling, no snarling. What a dog.

We try to get them to play together nicely. I hold the dog still and Treena brings Corwin over to pet him. Inevitably the baby instead rips at Bingo's wrinkled skin or grabs the choke ring on his collar and gives it a yank.

As little use as Bingo has for the kid, he endures the insults with grace. There may even be a little love and understanding there. I have no doubt someday soon they'll become the best of friends.