At Christmas, he kept telling us that he wanted to be the bad guy when playing with his older brother's toys. I was a little bit disturbed that he insisted on being the bad guy- that is, until we realized that he didn't want to be the BAD guy, he wanted to be the BAT guy (a.k.a. Batman). Our mistake.
There are little daily things like how he'll throw his hands up in the air and yell "Hooray for me!" after he pulls up his pants by himself or how he cracks himself up changing the last word of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" to something crazy like "table" or "race car" or how he chants what he wants or how he tries to do a push up but ends up looking more like a disabled frog, but then there are the things like what happened at the vet a couple of weeks ago- things I want to always remember.
Our miniature schnauzer was due for some shots, so I guess Asher was anticipating Zoe's pain. He grabbed her furry face and held it close to his. He bent his knees and looking her square in the eyes, he said, "Zoe, here's the deal. You gonna be fine."