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This is what happened: I was picking out my books and kind of humming to myself, and all of a sudden, there was this loud and scary scream. I went running up to the front of the library, and there was Miss Franny Block, sitting on the floor behind her desk. “Miss Franny?” I said. “Are you all right?” “A bear,” she said. “A bear?” I asked. “He has come back,” she said. “He has?” I asked. “Where is he?” “Out there,” she said and raised a finger and pointed at Winn-Dixie standing up on his hind legs, looking in the window for me. “Miss Franny Block,” I said, “that’s not a bear. That’s a dog. That’s my dog. Winn-Dixie.” “Are you positive?” she asked. “Yes ma’am,” I told her. “I’m positive. He’s my dog.
I would know him anywhere.” Miss Franny sat there trembling and shaking.
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“Come on,” I said. “Let me help you up. It’s okay.” I stuck out my hand and Miss Franny took hold of it, and I pulled her up off the floor. She didn’t weigh hardly anything at all. Once she was standing on her feet, she started acting all embarrassed, saying how I must think she was a silly old lady, mistaking a dog for a bear, but that she had a bad experience with a bear coming into the Herman W. Block Memorial Library a long time ago, and she never had quite gotten over it. “When did that happen?” I asked her. “Well,” said Miss Franny, “it is a very long story.” “That’s okay,” I told her. “I am like my mama in that I like to be told stories. But before you start telling it, can Winn-Dixie come in and listen, too?
He gets lonely without me.” “Well, I don’t know,” said Miss Franny. “Dogs are not allowed in the Herman W. Block Memorial Library.” “He’ll be good,” I told her. “He’s a dog who goes to church.” And before she could say yes or no, I went outside and got Winn-Dixie, and he came in and lay down with a “huummmppff” and a sigh, right at Miss Franny’s feet.
She looked down at him and said, “He most certainly is a large dog.” “Yes ma’am,” I told her. “He has a large heart, too.”