David Grew

“At the end of that happy summer, Whitepaw came to his full size, as big as a calf, his tawny hair sleek and rich with a dark tingle, his breast white and fluffy, his slender legs remarkably white-tipped, his great, understanding, lively eyes radiant with the love he bore everybody, well-mannered, well-behaved, with a sense of humor as evident as the good-will that glowed all over him.”

“Dwight grew from a mere odor which was different from all other odors, a color with a peculiar brightness, a touch which, unlike fur, was just as pleasant, into a definite being as important as his mother.”

“A good deal of his enthusiasm for sniffing at things came from the vague hunger in his puppy soul for his mother and his sisters and brothers, a vague puppy hope that as he sniffed the various things in his reach, he might suddenly come upon them. But that anxious sniffing, like the ‘why’s’ of a little child, taught him a great deal about his new world into which he had come.”