The puddles had little wind ripples in them and a few leaves, the first to abandon the trees for the fall.
Ranzo darted into the puddles in the street, batting at a floating leaf as though he were a cat playing with a squeaky toy.
The decision to walk Ranzo at 3 am had been a good one. Britt could forego Ranzo’s leash, there was no neighborhood traffic, a…
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