Page 8 - HelperHounds_Bk8_Louis.indd
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said, “Ah, much better. You’re a proper poodle

            now!”

               She slid a mirror in front of me and said,

            “Whatcha think?”
               Now that was the Louis I knew! Back to my

            usual amazing self. Mrs. Tramill had worked

            her magic and made Harvard proud—and not a

            moment too soon.
               While I was enjoying one of Mrs. Tramill’s

            homemade and organic chewies in my waiting

            kennel, Lisa came back to get me. Mrs. Tramill

            snapped open the cage and handed my leash
            to Lisa. I wagged and wagged. Lisa told me

            how handsome I looked—and how nice I

            smelled.

               “It’s the spray,” Mrs. Tramill said. “I add a bit
            of lemon.”

               “Wonderful. And sorry I was late!” Lisa said.

            “But I got a phone call as I was leaving.”

               “Oh?” Mrs. Tramill said. “A new case?”


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