One day my dad came back home in his truck and there was a cage in the back. Naturally I was curious, so I went towards the truck when I noticed that there was a small little goat that wasn’t even an adult yet.

I asked my dad and he said that he bought the goat from his friend and he was going to kill it twenty minutes after he brought it home so that we would have a big meal.

My sister was there too and she was strongly for my view. We found out we got really mad at my dad and told him not to kill it. After about 10 minutes of complaining we finally convinced my dad not to kill it because we told him that there was no reason for him to kill the goat himself when he could just buy goat meat at a store.

My parents know some friends that we visit sometimes and their family really likes animals so we decided to give it to them. For about a month, they had the goat as a pet and they also had the same problems as we had because the dad wanted to kill it and eat it but the rest of the family didn’t want it to die.They also were able to persuade him not to do so. They ended up sending the goat to a family member’s farm where it would grow up happily.

Another thing that has happened to influence my belief is that I have a neighbor that really likes hunting.   One day he hunted a deer and brought the body home, but he decided to leave it outside his house for everyone to see. He just left it there as if it were some kind of award that he just won. Sadly little kids started to make fun of the body and pretended to ride on it. They laughed at it and felt no problem with there being a dead deer just laying.

I felt sick by what was happening and left because of what I had just witnessed._

It amazes me how we have changed from hunting to survive to hunting for sport._

I chewed on my pencil as I walked back and forth across my bedroom. What was I going to do? It was bad enough that I was the new kid. But now I was sure to get laughed right out of fifth grade. How could my first homework be such a disaster?

“My name is Anna, and this summer I——”I stopped. How could I stand in front of my class and say that I’d spent the entire summer handling something that most people don’t even like to talk about? Poop (粪便). I’d spent three months shoveling (铲), collecting, and analyzing co w poop on my grandparents’ farm. I tried to think of a different adventure I could share. Maybe I could say I’d spent the summer on the Weather Control Team preventing floods.

“Time for dinner,” my mom called.

I walked slowly down the stairs and slid into my chair.

“You’ve been in your room since you came home from school,” Mom said. “What are you working on?”

I sighed. “I have to tell the class what I did this summer.”

My younger brother, Seymour, began to laugh uncontrollably. “No one will want to sit next to you after they hear you were covered in cow poop all summer!”

“OK, that’s enough, Seymour,” Dad said.

“Anna,” said Mom, putting green beans in a bowl, “be proud of the work we did this summer. Our planet would be in sad shape without scientists like your grandfather.”

It’s true that my grandfather does important work. He developed an easy way to use poop as a source of fuel. Using the poop is now easy, economical, and environmentally safe.

“I know, Mom,” I said, staring at my meatloaf. “But it’s not exactly something people want to hear about before lunch.”

That night I dreamed about more splendid adventures: cave diving in Mexico; hiking through the Amazon rainforest.

At school the next day, I bent over my desk, listening to each kid speak. My palms were sweaty, and the knot (结) in my stomach grew tighter.

“And that was my journey to Mount Everest,” Ember Adams said, finishing her report. She bowed and took her seat.

“It’s your turn, Anna,” Ms. Hammond said.

The class cheered as I returned to my desk, and some of my classmates approached me with admiration in their eyes.

On the last day before Christmas, I hurried to the stores to buy the remaining gifts I didn’t manage to buy earlier.

Seeing all the people crawling along in the queue there, I started to complain about this annoying Christmas. Nonetheless, I made my way to the toys section. Once I was there, I started to curse at the prices as I wonder if all kids really play with such expensive toys.

While looking in the toys section, I noticed a small boy of about five years old, pressing a doll against his chest. He kept on touching the hair of the doll lovingly and looking at the pricetag. His eyes looked so sad.

Before I knew it, I found myself bending over and asked who he wanted to give the doll to. “It is the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so much for this Christmas. She was so sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.” Still holding the doll in his hands, the boy continued, “but I don’t have enough money.”

I told him that maybe Santa Claus would bring it to her after all and not to worry. However, he replied sadly, “My sister and I are living with Granny. She is a cleaner in a big building and she is working very hard. She tries her best to give food to us.”

My heart nearly stopped. “I told Granny and my little sister that Santa Claus will send gifts to them,” the little boy looked up at me and said, “I prayed to God to help me and I started to save every coin in my pocket half a year ago, so that I could have enough money to buy them each a small gift for Christmas. But now I don’t even have enough for the doll.” He looked at the doll again quietly with sad eyes.

Tears welling up in my eyes, I quickly reached for my wallet and took a few dollars out.

I said to the boy, “What if we checked again, just in case, to see if you have enough money?”

Two days later, I happened to be in a neighborhood visiting my friend when I spotted a familiar doll, and two little people.

Who Stole Grandma’s Pie?

My grandma is the best pie maker in the world. So when she called me — the best detective she knows — that one of her pies was missing, I knew that it was serious.

I hurried to Grandma’s house. The kitchen was still warm from the oven, and the air smelled buttery and sweet. When I hugged Grandma hello, I realized that I hadn’t visited her for a long time.

“Start from the beginning,” I said. “I cut the pie into six pieces,” she began, “in this pie tin.” She showed me the tin. There were only a few crumbs (碎屑)left.

“The pie is definitely missing,” I said, scooping up the crumbs and popping them into my mouth. “A pumpkin pie” I shouted, nearly jumping. “My favorite kind! This is even more serious than I thought” I took a small note book and a pencil from my pocket. “Now, when did you last see this pie?”

“I baked it this morning,” said Grandma. “Then the doorbell rang. It was that nice young man who rakes (耙平)my leaves.”

“Just as I suspected,” I said, writing down “leaf raker” in my notebook. “He stole the pie.”

“Oh, dear, no,” Grandma said. “He just wanted me to know that he was finished. He did such a good job that I gave him a piece of pie.”

“Then what happened, Grandma?”

“When I went outside with the young man’s piece of pie, the mail carrier was there. She told me she could smell that pie all the way from the curb.”

“Aha!” I said, writing “mail carrier” in my notebook. “The mail carrier must have sneaked into the house and stole the pie” Grandma shook her head. “No, I gave her a piece of pie myself.”

“Go on,” I said, getting a little concerned.

“Then the phone rang, and it was my neighbor, Grace. You know, the woman with a white cat?” I nodded and wrote “G.” in my book. “She is such a dear. She calls me every day to see if I need anything. So I invited her and her daughter over for some pie and tea.”

“Grandma!” I said. “No one stole the pie. One to the leaf raker. Another to the mail carrier. You and Grace each had one. And her daughter’s is five. You gave away all the pieces.” Grandma looked thoughtful.

“There were six pieces!” Grandma reminded me.

At last I opened the door of the refrigerator.