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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