As is shown in the survey conducted by our school’s English newspaper,

She was the prettiest puppy we had ever seen, and the whole family immediately fell in love with her. We named her Onyx because of her black, shiny black coat. She spent her first vacation with us when she was only ten weeks old and had her first bath and swim in the St. Lawrence River. We had no clue that this amazing little ball of fur would end up being our hero.

As she grew older, Onyx became more and more involved in our family activities. On hot summer days, Onyx enjoyed floating on the river with us in her own rubber tube (橡皮圈). Amazingly standing on the top of the tube, she smiled while showing off her perfect balance. Resting her front legs and paws over the edge of the rubber tube, she kept her eyes shut as she floated until she’d had enough of the warm sun on her black coat.

One day, our eighteen-year-old daughter, Margie, announced she was going to swim across the bay. No one in the family was free to go swimming with her. The unwritten rules, regardless of swimming ability, was to have a companion in the water with you, especially when swimming the width of the bay. I was not a good swimmer, so I said to Margie, “Take Onyx with you.” Having heard her name, Onyx woke up from a nap and was ready for action. Margie signed the dog to follow her. Onyx ran to the water next to her. They entered the freezing river together and swam side by side across the bay.

I watched from the bank as they reached the sandbar (沙洲) on the far shore. They rested a few minutes before diving into the water for the return trip. I felt uneasy for some reason and continued to watch the pair swim side by side.

Suddenly I heard Margie calling out, “I have a cram (痉挛) in the leg! ”

Seeing the pair approaching the riverbank, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Debra, a five-year-old cousin of mine, often annoyed me. She wished me to stay with her, talk to her and teach her dancing. I hated it and never taught her to dance. That hot July afternoon, Debra annoyed me again.

Our big family all gathered together at a friend’s outdoor wedding. The children were running around and playing games. The afternoon couldn’t have been better. My friends and I gathered together and excitedly talked about our up-and-coming freshman year. Debra desired to join us, but what could a five-year-old kid contribute to our conversations?

I left the table where we were sitting, leaving behind my mother, my grandmother and Debra. I walked inside the house and greeted everyone inside before making my way to the bathroom. As I was washing my hands, there was a big knock and the bathroom door burst open. It was an older cousin of mine, Sylvia. With a look of fear, anxiety and shock, she rushed to find towels. I figured one of the kids was injured while playing. “There has been a bad accident outside,” she told me and rushed out.

What kind of accident? Was anyone hurt? I left the bathroom. A woman approached and told me that a guest who was leaving the party had lost control of his car. Then I heard a voice calling my name. It was my mother. She told me, “Debra has been badly hurt. Come and help rescue her!” My heart dropped to my feet. I was struck by the sudden thought that I might lose her.

I hurried outside. Tables and chairs were overturned everywhere by the runaway car. I was in shock. My mother quickly drove our car around and laid down the backseat. But where was Debra? I saw her parents running from a room with a piece of board, perfectly Debra’s size. I didn’t see my tiny cousin until she was put onto the board and laid in the car, crying. Her new white dress had blood, and on her left shoe was a tire (轮胎) mark.

Together, we hurried to drive towards the hospital.

“She’ll walk again as long as you take good care of her,” the doctor told us.

The snowstorm was supposed to hit the evening of Monday, Jan. 31, 2022. I was working from home, but I had to leave that afternoon and go to my office at First Nations University in Regina, Saskatchewan, so I could sign an emergency financial aid check for a student. As director of finance, I wanted to get it to him as soon as possible, snowstorm or not. Besides, I wasn’t worried. I figured I had more than enough time to make it to the office and get back home.

The route to the university takes about 30 minutes along the Trans-Canada Highway. After I finished my work, it was just past 4:30 p. m. I started heading back home.

Not soon after I left office, the snow started and it was coming down fast. Within minutes I was in a whiteout. The storm was a “snownado,” or what the TV meteorologists call a Saskatchewan screamer, because it comes in fast and so windy that it screams.

The road condition was horrible, forcing me to slow down. The windows were fogging up and getting covered with snow, so I rolled down my driver’s side window, thinking I could better follow the edge of the road and keep to a straight line. But really, I didn’t have a clue where I was or even which side of the road I was on. At one point, I don’t know exactly when, I stopped because I was afraid of driving into a farmer’s field. The Trans-Canada Highway was in between two farms, each 500 yards away, I remember. I kept the car running to stay warm and called 911. They told me to sit tight and wait things out for the night, saying nobody was coming to get me until morning, at the earliest. It was now 6:30 p.m., I had to do something for help.

I posted my situation onto my Facebook (网络社交工具), hoping anyone might read it and help.

“I can’t drive,” the old farmer replied, “I walked here after my son phoned me about everything.”

I’ve always known that I’m very quick with my hands. If someone throws something, I catch it almost before I’m aware it has been thrown. When I was young, I had no idea how useful this skill would become.

Last week, I was going to visit a friend with her newborn and was on my way to a toy store to buy a gift. I’d once lived in the neighbourhood and I decided to head back to my old cupcake shop for a coffee. Sitting alone at a table outside with my drink, I was approached by an older man, who in a calm and very matter-of-fact way told me to call 911, because there was a baby on a fire escape.

I jumped up to see where the baby was. I was so surprised to see it, wearing a little onesie (连体衣) and lying on the fire escape railings (栏杆) between the second and third storeys. I was nervous, so the baby boy became my only priority.

As I was on the phone to the emergency services, I made eye contact with the child, keeping him calm, telling him to stay there. Some people were going up the stairs to find the parents, who were apparently sleeping through the whole drama.

I just wanted the child to feel safe. I hoped he’d stay there until somebody could rescue him. Apparently he had slipped through pieces of cardboard placed next to an air-conditioning unit in the window, and without bars to protect him he’d crawled (爬) out and up the fire escape towards the next storey. He was only 16 months old. For him to even climb up and balance in that position was incredible.

Then he slipped. Instinctively (本能), he grabbed on the railing as he fell, hanging by his arms. I knew he couldn’t hold on, 25 feet above the street, for long. I sensed people had gathered behind, but my attention was purely focused on my intention to catch the baby.

I made sure I was positioned to catch him.

The moments after he was saved were exciting.

Students’ Time Spent on Physical Exercise Weekly

Nowadays, many students are aware of the significance of physical exercise, although the time they spend on it varies.

Mohan was excited. His father had finally declared him old enough to help take the sheep to herd. It was no ordinary herding, though. Mohan and his father and other shepherds (牧羊人) moved high up into the mountains and stayed on the pastures (牧场) with their flocks for six long months.

It was not an easy life. Far away from home, the men were surrounded by forests that were filled with dangerous animals, such as bears, tigers, and leopards (豹) .

As Mohan bid his mother and sister goodbye, he tried to look as grown-up as possible. Mohan, his father, and their sheepdog, Sona, set off along the dusty track with their sheep. Soon they were joined by other shepherds and their flocks. The group climbed for three days until they reached the half-dry bed of a river. “Let’s part up here,” said the oldest shepherd.

Mohan and his father, along with Kishan, a neighbor, took their sheep northward. As night fell, everything seemed peaceful. Mohan sat closer to Sona for warmth. His father and Kishan had taken their flocks to different ends of the pasture.

Suddenly, Sona started to bark. Mohan looked up to see his father’s sheep rushing down the slope. Something was wrong. He waited for the sheep to reach him. Then he turned to Sona and said, “Stay and guard the sheep. I must look for Father.”

Mohan picked up a lantern and his shepherd’s stick and hurried in the direction from which the sheep had come. “Father, where are you?” he called out. Then came another sound that froze Mohan’s blood. Mohan shouted,” Father!” A steady voice answered, “I’m here.”

Mohan rushed up a slope and almost fell into a ditch (沟) on the other side. He stopped just in time and found himself looking straight into the eyes of a snow leopard. Mohan was frozen with terror.

“Mohan, use your lantern.” His father’s voice shook Mohan’s fear out of him. Mohan looked down and saw his father lying in the ditch, holding a lamb.

Mohan knew he had to act fast.

Mohan put out the fire and then climbed into the ditch.