Then we would play ball. Mr. Bonelli would toss a big bright ball to one after another of the dogs, and each dog would jump up in the air and catch it and bring it back to him.
After they had played for a while I would jump down from my chair and run over in front of him, and stand up on my hind legs and wave my paws.
“So!” he would cry. “You want to play, too, do you?”
“Bow-wow-wow!” I would bark.
“Very well,” he would say; “then catch.”
He would throw the ball to me, and I would catch it as the others had done, but instead of bringing it back to him I would run away with it, and he would chase me all around the stage and pretend to get very angry.
At last he would cry, “Police! Police!”
Graceful would jump right over me.
Then Frolic, who had jumped down from his chair and had run out a little while before, would come in walking on his hind legs and dressed like a policeman. A black stick was strapped to his paw, and he would come hopping over toward me and wave the stick as if he meant to hit me, and I would pretend to be frightened and would drop the ball and run and hide under a chair.