04 Izzy Azumi, F.D.O

IZZY Azumi, F.D.O Stink came and peered over Mrs. Soso's fence at the bag of poop that Judy had scooped. "Whoa. Where's the moose?" he asked. "Huh?" said Judy. "That's moose poop if I ever saw it," said Stink. "How do you know it's moose poop?" asked Judy. "It's too big to be dog poop. Looks more like cow plop. I'm reading The Big Head Book of Scat from the library. I'm kind of a scat expert, you know."

It was true-not-false. Stink did know a lot about scat and poop and dung. "Moose poop, huh?" said Judy, with a gleam in her eye. Cha-ching! She should make even more money for scooping poop that size. "Scooping moose poop has to be worth way more than dog poop. Maybe even five big ones." "At least," said Stink. When Judy was done, she knocked on Mrs. Soso's front door to collect her money. As it turned out, it was only worth five little-not-big ones. Five dimes. A puny fifty cents. "How much did you get?" Stink asked. Judy held out her hand. "Fifty cents? That's all?" said Stink. "That's dog poop." "Exactly," said Judy. "Mrs. Soso says poop is poop."

"Bummer," said Stink, hopping down off the fence. "Gotta go. I'm late for a thumb-wrestling match with Webster." "See you later!" said Judy. Stink was halfway down the sidewalk when he turned around. "You know what you need? Polar bear scat. Now that's worth something." "Now you tell me," said Judy. Gold mine! If Stink was right, she could scoop poop from possums to potbellied pigs, elk to emus. The bigger the better. She'd make piles of money. Heaps of it. Mountains of money. Judy knocked on three more doors. Not one person wanted their possum poop scooped. And nobody even owned an emu. On the way home, Judy kept an eye out for polar bear scat. "I'm Linda Gormezano, Polar Bear Poop Tracker," she said aloud. Stink had

read to Judy all about Linda Gormezano from his Big Head Book of Scat. "For five dollars, I'll track down your polar bear poop and scoop it!" All of a sudden, Judy saw a pair of striped kneesocks sticking out from a pair of polka-dot rubber boots. They belonged to a girl with freckles who was holding a leash and who seemed to be walking an invisible dog.

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"Hi, Linda," said a voice. "I'm Izzy. Izzy Azumi, F.D.O." "Oh, no, I was just pretending," said Judy. "I'm not Linda. I'm Judy. Judy Moody, P.B.P.T." "P.B.P.T.? Oh, Polar Bear... Poop Tracker?" Izzy asked. "Yep," said Judy. "And F.D.O.? Fire Drill Organizer? Fluffy Dog Oilpainter? Fried Donut Operator?" Izzy shook her head no, no, and no. She cracked up, showing two missing teeth. "Freaky-Deaky Octopus?" asked Judy. "I give up. I'm all out of stuff with the letter O." "Future Dog Owner!" said Izzy, breaking into more giggles. "Is that why you're walking an invisible dog?" Judy asked.