Rascal memoir 1

I chuckled to myself yesterday thinking of how you'd say, "Where's your ball!" and how he would search. Like an earnest little person searching all around for the thing he loved! his ball! it's his and you want it! how happy this would make him, what purpose it would give him. He would wander around in all the rooms, in all the corners until he found his orange ball with the white spokes, and when he found it he would run at it with a jaunty urgency, scurry over to the requester and then drop it at your feet. Then the expectancy! The excitement in his face as you took it in your hand, threw it down the hallway and he ran off to collect it. He loved to get a running start at it.