Summer was here. From tail to the tip of his snout, Bingo could feel it. He stuck his nose in the patio door crack. Fresh grass shoots scented from the warming earth. Sugar sap bubbled deep beneath the bark. Rain two days out tickled his long bones. A few houses down a squirrel worried an acorn. Overjoyed, Bingo yapped Summer! Summer! to his fluffy neighbor. The squirrel chittered his annoyance.

Bingo pranced into the kitchen. Soon there would be forever days and naps in the shade. Summer was sticky mud for rolling and dandelion jungles to explore. Bingo could taste the scrumptious grubs wriggling just for him. Hungry, Bingo yapped Sumber! Summer! to his person, Sam. Standing by the sink, Sam ignored him.

What, Bingo said with a head cock, I know you heard me. The small terrier stomped he wanted to go outside. The kitchen air was heavy with the smell of smoky paprika and cumin. Bingo circled taking in the variety of dirtied bowls. Mustard, deviled eggs, and the tang of Carolina barbecue sauce the smells lit up his brain. Suddenly it clicked. All is forgiven. We are having a cookout, Bingo yapped.

“Hunger, boy?” Sam called over her shoulder.

The spare human Peter dragged a bag of charcoal. The air was spiked with charred mesquite and the promise of crispy edges. Bingo jumped on the charcoal bag and bit it to help Peter get the fire started. Peter grumbled over the grill as their dog barked loud encouragement.

Summer was here. The bistro table was laden with potato salad and icy lemonade. With delicious smoke in his eyes, Bingo yelped his excitement to the treetops.

“We really should sign him up for obedience training or an exorcism or something,” Peter said.

“He’s just hungry,” Sam said. “Here you go, my sweet baboo.”

Sam slipped a hot patty of yumminess on a plate for him. Bingo took his first gobble of summer and froze. Tofu. Bingo sniffed and growled. He looked up at his person, horrified. Overhead a squirrel danced ha ha.