The hardest thing was having to give up my three beautiful puppies due to my situation, the environment, and the people in that environment. I've mentioned this in another question. (Lilo, my best friend) (Cleveland, the biggest of the litter, he was chill like me) (Spike, the fluffiest, he was as fluffy as a cat, but clumsy to) What I did for these puppies was out of this world love. I never loved anything more in this world than these three right here. I raised them from birth to almost 11 weeks. While my mom wanted money, selling the others to anyone.(there was 11 in the litter) I cared for their safety and happiness and quality of life. They were my everything when I had nothing. I gave them away to a animal charity organization for free. My mom bitched at me for not getting money for them. At this time I was in severe depression, severe poverty, no chance of a job due to location, and wearing dirty clothes for months in her basement. I love animals to death, I love animals more than I love humans(but I'm no PETA activist). I loved these puppies, what I did was out of complete love and care for them and was seriously the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. It gets me very emotional thinking about this, I wish I was in a better position to give them a happy life. The black puppy, Lilo was my upmost favorite. She had the whine of a angel. She used it to always get my attention to give her more love. She always wanted to sleep with me every night and be with me every second of the day. Not a day passes that I hope they are getting love from a family in a great environment. I really want to get to see Lilo again. But of course the dog charity people changed their names. But she will also be Lilo to me♥️ How long does he love animals? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - All his life - not enough information - Only for a short time of 1 year of giving up the dogs. - Only for 2 years after giving up the dogs.
All his life

I normally do not post certain types of things on my blog or on social media, like political messages, but today I feel compelled. I've been thinking for the last few days about the most recent school shooting in Parkland, and my overwhelming emotion right after grief is rage. I am so angry it makes me cry and for those of you out there who know me, angry-cry is the end-stage, top-of-the-gauge level of angry for me. I am angry that as a nation, we continue to wring our hands and bemoan each mass shooting but we don't take any action to stop the next one. I am angry that our elected officials have failed us in the most spectacular way possible by being unable to work together or to set aside special interests to protect the lives and safety of Americans, including our most vulnerable citizens, our children. I am angry that time and time again, we the people and our elected officials weigh the value of human lives against countless other things (Second Amendment, special interests, party disagreements, inertia, whatever) and the value of human life comes up short in the calculations. I am angry at myself for believing at any point in the last several years that I could trust lawmakers to address this epidemic and I am angry at myself for feeling so helpless that I have not personally taken action. This stops now. I am angry that in 2012, 20 6-7 year old children and 6 adults were murdered in Sandy Hook and in the 5+ years since, we have done nothing meaningful to stop this. To me, this is tantamount to saying that we as a nation are OK with this. I don't think we are, but that's the message we're sending if we don't force our government to do something. According to the New York Times, there have been 239 school shootings nationwide since Sandy Hook with 438 people shot, 138 who died. How long did it probably take the author to write the blog post? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - a few weeks - not enough information - a few hours - a month
a few hours

Justin Nelson, Jr., pounded the last of the stakes of his new cattle pen into the dry dirt. Like sentinels, they sprouted in a line from the barn, swerved north of the stream, veered at a right angle for the stump, and followed Justin to where he stood. The cross-beams remained, after which he'd finally be done. He took a white handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wiped his forehead. The task had been lengthened considerably, although Justin refused to admit it, by incessant thinking, an activity which often stopped him with his hammer in mid-air. But now, he would soon be able to think all he wanted from the comfort of his porch as the cattle wandered from shade to shade. After he bought some cattle, he reminded himself. Under the entirely blue vault of sky, Justin felt something pass between himself and the morning sun. His leathered face turned up to see nothing but ubiquitous light, curving toward him in all directions. He arched his aging back, feeling the popping and hating it more than usual, before wiping his neck and replacing the handkerchief. He had that feeling that he'd better drink something and sit down or he'd end up in that damn hospital again. Twice last year, whether he needed it or not, he went in for a check-up, and twice a year, some intern treated him like the village idiot. Truth be told, everyone who knew about him had treated him that way for nearly eleven years, except his niece. With a sigh escaping from the bellows of his withering chest, Justin shuffled back to the porch he had added onto his small two-room home. In the distance, a plume of dust was billowing off the road. Mail truck. Must be time for breakfast. About time I ate something. Justin will enjoy his porch: Pick the correct answer from the following options: - After his anual check-up - After he buys some cattle - while sun gazing - not enough information
After he buys some cattle