The Dog Next Door Belongs to Mr. Le Fleur

I really need to tell you about the dog that lives with an old couple, Mr. and Mrs. Le Fleur. They lived next door for the longest time. Their parents and their parents built the house in the early 1900s of the 20th century. The dog named Flower was a full-bred German Shepherd that usually dropped off to sleep on the Le Fleurs' porch. However, he came to be alert when I passed my hand over the wrought iron rails with very sharp stick. Since he knew me and my scent, he alerted to me. Somehow, he knew my steps or me other things about me. He would walk over to the fence that was about twenty dog steps from the front porch. Once in a while I did pet him with my right hand, but because the rails were close together I could not get my arm through them. Both the dog and I were happy with our greetings, each one with the other, then we went on our separate ways. Flower went back to her porch to sleep and I would go to the grocery store.

At the grocery store, I bought things that my mother wanted. This time it was a pound and a half of ground beef and a pound of ground pork because my mother was going to mix them into a meat loaf. This was mine and my father's favorite dinner along with baked potatoes, green beans, and a tossed salad. We eat healthy in our house. Our breakfasts, lunches and dinners are all on the healthy side. My father had a heart attack when he was 42 years old. The doctor said that it was because he was overweight, had a desk job, did not exercise, smoked cigarettes, and ate too much. My mother only put on his plate, servings of meat, vegetables, and potatoes, noodles, or spaghetti that was apportioned to the size of his hand. Dad being Dad then would go to the kitchen counter and put another dinner plate full of whatever entree my mother was serving for dinner. My mother would say something about how much he was eating, and he would respond, "Yes.