And Percy has yet to buy him a present. But Percy already has something in mind.
A pair of sneakers. And then Percy is going to transform Donald into one of 'em cute lil' triathletes. The ball can come later.
I am very positive, that at least Donald loves me.
Percy: Ciaran!
Donald: I am not Ciaran. I am Dor-nald.
Percy: So where's my Ciaran? What have you done to my Ciaran?
(Donald looks left and right and left and right around himself, looking for an answer. And Gracie the silly one trots by.)
Donald: (pointing at the poor dog) That's Ciaran.
=/ Of all my wonderful traits, he has to pick up my cuteness.
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