Are you like my son?” I could hear her smile. “Oh, sweetheart. I love you. I’d never hurt a fly but there’s so much to do with you; we’d always like to help.” I could smell her in the room.
It was still dark when I got back down the steps. She was standing next to the stairs but she was so much taller than me. “Daddy dear, that was nice of you to watch me but I’m sorry I’ve had to work all night.” Her face was so white and so sad the words are out of it. “You always liked to watch me? Did you have to go to your job?”
“Daddy, I don’t have a job anymore.” “What do you mean?” Her voice was so sad. She looked so sad it hurt. She didn’t look happy. Her face was just so so sad because she was crying. “Do you want me to send flowers?” I asked softly. The way she looked at me was so sad it hurt. “I can’t. I have all the flowers in the house. I don’t need any more.” She looked at the ground and it was all she could think of. There was nothing else to say.
She went out of the flat and didn’t come back for hours.
One day, a dog came to us. We called him Mr. Dixie. He was an Australian Shepherd with brown fur, small brown eyes and a long tongue. There was a big man named Mr. Ripper and two young boys. I loved Ripper as a pet. He was nice and affectionate but also very loyal. It was his job to hunt the foxes. He would come after the foxes and scare them away. He also had a large house. My mother made sure Mr. Ripper ate three pieces of bacon a day and also gave him a good diet.
When Mrs. Lacefield asked us if Mr. Ripper was a friend we said yes. This was when Mrs. Lacefield would come to the flat and put a piece of blue cheese on Ripper’s plate. Then he wouldn’t eat. The kids would do the same thing to Mr. Ripper. A few days later, when they were in their third year, my Dad got a message from Australia saying that a group of men had beaten Mr. Ripper up. My Dad went to the boys who had been there and he told me what had happened, how they had found
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