There once was a man by the name of Michael. He was a supportive husband and a great render until he started drinking. I had some(prenominal) good times and some bad when my beat was still alive. It was December 15th, 1979 when my rattling(prenominal) begetter took me to see Santa Clause at the m both. We had such a wonderful time. We took pictures together and he bought me this doll that had red pigtails and she had the prettiest dress on. He told me that this is what I look like when I get all dressed up. My tiro would take me to see the Easter bunny rabbit when he came to town. He even took me to McDonalds to see Ronald McDonald. I was so happy when I was a kid. My father told me that I was Daddys smaller girl and never forget that he loves me. My father handle me like I was a princess.
He bought me a beautiful sporting pony with blue eyes and light blonde hair. I named her Mystic and he taught me how to ride her and how to take good circumspection of her. I would fire up up everyday at 7 am just to take care of Mystic. I had so much fun. When I was about 4 years old, my father bought me a beautiful brown and white English customs duty spaniel puppy and I named her Dookie. Dookie would sleep with me every night and she would wake me up in the morning so she can play. Dookie was my better friend.
We would go feed Mystic together and I would tail Dookie around the yard while I was riding Mystic. My father would sit outside and watch me for hours telling me to go dull and be careful.
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Although the subject matter is painful, I admire the pen for getting those feelings out. Whether this is just a work of fiction or an actual life story, I felt sad for the characters and take to that is was only a story.
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