Chapter 12
A Gentle Plea to Squeaky
Russo, remembering his manners, approaches Squeaky cautiously. He doesn't want to scare her. 'Hello, Squeaky,' he says softly. 'Those cards are very important. They're meant for our friends for Valentine's Day.' He explains how much everyone is looking forward to receiving them. Baby Bear adds, 'We worked very hard making them.' Squeaky, who had been proudly arranging a particularly sparkly card, pauses. She looks from the pups to her collection, a flicker of understanding in her beady eyes. She hadn't realized they were so special.
Russo, his detective instincts buzzing, felt a pang of concern. Squeaky, the tiny squirrel, looked so pleased with her pilfered treasures. He didn’t want to frighten her, not one bit. He remembered his manners, the ones his mother always stressed were just as important as being brave. He took a deep breath, puffing out his chest just a little, and approached the base of the oak tree where Squeaky was perched, her bushy tail twitching with pride.
“Hello, Squeaky,” Russo said, his voice as soft as a whisper of snow. He tried to make his eyes look as friendly as possible, which, for a pup whose job it was to solve mysteries, was sometimes a challenge. He held his magnifying glass carefully at his side, not wanting it to look like a weapon.
Squeaky froze, her tiny paws still arranging a particularly vibrant red card adorned with glitter that caught the faint afternoon sun. Her beady eyes, usually darting and quick, fixed on Russo. Baby Bear shuffled closer, his gentle presence a calming influence.
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