On his 67th birthday, Dad had a heart attack. He was1he survived. But something 2him had died. His passion for life was gone. He refused the doctor's3 and his bitter attitude made every visitor 4 Dad was left alone.

    I asked Dad to come and live on our small farm5the fresh air would do him good. A week later, I 6the invitation. He criticized everything here. Frustrated, I decided something had to be done.

    One day I read an article saying several depressed patients' attitudes had 7dramatically (显著地)when given dogs. That afternoon I drove to the animal shelter, where a pointer's eyes caught my attention. They watched me8.

    A staff member said: “He's been here for two weeks with nothing heard. His time is 9tomorrow.”

    I turned to the man in horror. “You mean to 10him?”

    “Madam, he said coldly. “We don't have 11for every unclaimed dog. The pointer's calm brown eyes12my decision. “I'll take him, ”I said.

    On arriving home, I took the dog to Dad's room. “Look what I got you! ”I said 13

    Dad frowned and murmured. “I don't want it”. Then, suddenly, the pointer 14from my grasp. He sat down in front of Dad.

    Dad's anger 15and soon he was hugging the animal.

    It was the beginning of a16Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together they spent long hours walking down country roads and relaxing on the banks of streams.

    Dad's 17faded, and he and Cheyenne befriended each other. Then, one night two years later, Cheyenne rushed into my bedroom as if telling something. Running into Dad's room, I found he had18.

    Two days later, my grief 19when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. While burying him near their favorite stream, I silently 20the dog for restoring Dad's peace of mind.

    The family had had a cat for years. Then, one day, the children finally 1 to persuade their parents to get them a dog as well. So a little Labrador（拉布拉多犬）2 .

    The dog was so3that everyone wanted to hold him and he charmed everyone by just loving them. The cat made it very clear she did not welcome another 4 in the house, but the dog just 5 the cat anyway. The little dog 6her anywhere, trying to make friends with the angry cat. No amount of 7behavior from the cat could persuade the dog not to love the cat.

    The family thought the cat would 8like the dog.

    Then one day the family heard horrible 9 from their back yard. They ran to the 10 to see what was happening. They lived in the suburbs and so they saw a real lynx（猞猁）was just planning on11 their cat for lunch. The poor cat had nowhere to run or hide. It would only be a matter of seconds and their cat would be 12.

    And then suddenly a black lightning ran to the rescue. The little dog 13the big lynx with all its strength. It did not14 or stop to think. It saw its 15 in trouble and did what had to be done. The family opened the window and started yelling and the father ran to the yard. The lynx soon disappeared into the16

    And ever since that day the cat's behavior toward the dog17totally. Now it was the cat that followed the hero dog everywhere. They 18in the same basket. The cat even let the dog eat from her bowl.

So we can19: if ever anyone is 20 towards you, don't turn your back on them. They may not rescue your life —but their kindness can certainly rescue your day!

    We were depressed and things were tough. Mom had a 1time raising us on her own because Dad died five years ago. We relied on social assistance for 2.

    Looking back, I 3remember what Mom went through to send us to school. I studied hard then. Every morning, she would put a new piece of cardboard in our shoes because our shoes were 4. Constant moving was typical for my family in these times. Rent was 25 dollars a month but Mom couldn't 5it. Though it was hard, we never 6. Christmas was approaching. We were given 25 dollars for social services. Instead of buying food, Mom would use the money to pay the 7, ensuring us all of a 8over our head.9we had nothing for Christmas.

    Unknown to Mom, I had been selling Christmas trees to earn enough money for a new pair of 10. On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, I was 11to go to catch the bus.

    As I reached the stop, I began to feel 12. I was going to buy a new pair of boots13Mom was at home in tears.  My mind was 14and I realized what I had to do. I didn't get on the 15.

    I went in a grocery store and bought the Christmas treats. I 16home and put them quietly against the door. I knocked on the door. When Mom opened the door, 17rolled into the house. She just stood there 18. I managed to hold back the 19, saying, "Merry Christmas, Mom! There really is a Santa Claus!"

    That day I got many 20and kisses from Mom. It was a Merry Christmas for us after all!

    I was a single(单身的) parent of four small children, working at a low-paid job. Money was always tight, but I 1 to make ends meet(收支平衡), and if not a lot, 2 we had enough. Not knowing we were poor, my kids just thought I was 3. I've always been glad about that.

    It was Christmas time, and although there wasn't 4 for a lot of gifts, we planned to celebrate with a family party. But the big 5for the kids was the fun of Christmas 6. They planned weeks ahead of time, asking 7 what they wanted for Christmas. 8, I had saved $120 for gifts to be shared by all five of us.

    The big day 9. I gave each kid a twenty-dollar bill and 10 them to look for 11 of about four dollars each. Then everyone went away excitedly. We had two hours to shop and 12 back at the “Santa's Workshop”.

    Driving home, everyone was in high Christmas spirits, 13 my youngest daughter, Ginger, who was unusually 14. She had only one small, flat bag with a few candies —fifty-cent candies! I was very doubtful but I didn't say anything 15 we got home. I called her into my bedroom and closed the door. This is what she told me:

    “I was looking 16 thinking of what to buy when I 17 to read the little cards on the “Giving Trees”. One was for a little girl, four years old, and all she 18 for Christmas was a doll. So I took the card off the tree and 19 the doll for her. We have so much and she doesn't have anything.”

    I never felt so 20 as I did that day.

    It's been a long time since I wrote a creative essay. Recently, with lots of time and lack of inspiration, I accepted a 1 to teach creative nonfiction. 2 I couldn't get myself to write my own stories. I could require that my students tell theirs.

    "You're going to be 3 a journal in this class." I said. "And I want you to tell your stories like they matter."

    "Why do they matter?" a boy named Michael asked. "I mean, who 4 about our stories?"

    No one said a wont. Perhaps they were just tired from their 5 lives. Many worked full-time while in school full-time. Most might not have the faintest 6 that their stories did matter. They didn't even know that their stories were stories — as beautiful and hard — as their own lives.

    7, I looked at Michael. "They matter because they do." I said. "Because you're here and you can tell them. Stories allow us to make 8 of what we're 9. When you 10 your experience into a story, it becomes yours and not just something that 11 to you."

    Michael didn't look 12 , but he didn't challenge me either.

    Later, Michael wrote about how he grew up in one of the worst neighborhoods in Boston and how his high school teacher, who saw his 13, helped him fill out a college application.

    I 14 Michael to read his essay out loud. After he finished, the class went so 15 that we could hear the sound of each other's breath. I looked at Michael and saw a softening and 16 in his eyes.

    After a moment, I said, "That's 17 you tell your stories." That night, I picked up my journal from where it 18, dusty and 19. For the first time in months. I had 20 to write.