He wanted to make friends with everybody and everything from the huge hulking hippo down to a stray bull pup. They were alive and lovable and the little fellow did his best to show his appreciation. A ball of twine set him into ecstasies. He would roll over and over, curling the twine ball until he was completely and hopelessly entangled. Then he would whine plaintively, begging to be helped. After I had released him he would run back and forth and do all his cute little tricks to show his gratitude.
I had a gold topped hand bag that Pompey especially liked, and it was always an issue between us to whom that bag rightfully belonged, him or me. We'd have a tug of war every day with that bag. His milk teeth grew rapidly and once he got a grip on the bag, it was all I could do to hold my own with him. Once he got it and ran round and round holding his head proudly as much as to say: "There you see, I beat you to it." I succeeded in regaining the bag by strategy. However, Pompey forgave me. He held my hand between his big paws and licked it long and caressingly. I smoothed his
