“Hello,” said Scout.
The rosemary bush had never said “Psst!” before, but that didn’t mean it didn’t have something to say. He thought he should be polite. He wondered what the rosemary bush was going to say.
“Psst! It’s me, Chisolm!” A fat possum waddled out from under the bush. Scout could smell him, all fresh and Christmassy. Scout also liked to run through the bush to obtain that festive scent.
“Chisolm!” said Scout. He was pleased to see Chisolm. They’d spent all day yesterday in the storm drains and sewers searching for (and rescuing) Ike and Clyde, the lost Boston Terriers of Smith Street.
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