Our dog won’t go down into the basement. Even when his little red ball falls down the stairs, he just sits at the top step and awaits my sister or me to retrieve it for him.

“Ok,” I said, “I guess I have to go down to the spooky basement to get your ball huh?”

Sparky stared at me with his big expressive brown eyes, and I trudged down where the basement ghost set up housekeeping.

As expected I found Sparkys’ little red ball, but much more than that, I found the entire basement in disarray.
The contents of dad’s tool chest was upended, strewn all over the floor.
“Hey basement ghost, not fair,” I yelled, “Now I have to clean this mess up before dad gets home. Thanks a lot Ghost.”
The basement ghost let me know he heard me( We surmised it was a he, boys are so more annoying then girls) by knocking over mom’s arts and crafts table.
“Thanks again basement ghost, ” I said as I picked everything up, got Sparky’s ball and ran back upstairs.

“Here’s your ball, try and keep it up here”, I said to Sparky.