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♥️ Who adopted Lilo? A. A family with three children. B. not enough information C. A single woman. D. A newly married couple.
B

When a friend tells you she has wild roses blooming everywhere, it's not hard to imagine where the conversation headed to next to turning them into rose petal jam, of course. My friend Simona Quirini and her family run the beautiful Canto del Maggio, a B&B, restaurant and garden, about one hour's drive from Florence. We arrived to catch Simona with a wooden crate in her hands, already half full of blush pink flower heads, small and as fragrant as honey. It wasn't just roses that were bursting out of their bushes with colour and fragrance. In fact, every time I go to Canto del Maggio, I notice how lush the property is with fruit, flowers and plants, and every season there are bounties to be collected. The first time I was there I noticed the myrtle bushes and heirloom fruit trees little tiny, red pears and apples. The garden was full of summer produce and I stole green-skinned figs harbouring raspberry-red flesh off the trees. The next time I went, we picked ripe olives off the trees around the pool and took them down to the local frantoio, olive oil mill, to press the bright green oil out of them. I also came home with buckets of corbezzoli, or Irish strawberries, to make jam. This spring, I noticed the hedge rows of flowering wild strawberries and this last visit we picked the berries off them for an afternoon snack. With the help of my daughter (who was slightly more interested in playing with Simona's new puppy), we filled a crateful of roses and picked the petals delicately off and into bowls. We were using the rose petal jam recipe and the technique I learned between two wonderful sources Pellegrino Artusi's 1891 cookbook (this pastry recipe below is also inspired by it) and the Armenian monks on Venice's Isola di San Lazzaro Island where I worked for two autumns. The secret, other than having beautiful, small and fragrant roses to begin with, is in massaging the petals with a bit of the sugar and the lemon juice until almost a pulp to release the essential oils. What is the name of the B&B? A. Canto del Maggio B. Simona Quirini C. not enough information D. Restaurant and Garden
A

Q: In my early 20s, I was a one-on-one aide for a couple of teenagers with cerebral palsy. With the first one, I was hired by and worked for the family. I picked the teen up from school every day and took care of him until he was in bed for the night. When he passed away, I took a job with the local school district. My client at the school had spastic quadriplegia. He could talk and was actually very smart, but he had no control over his arms or legs. He couldn't walk. He was never going to walk. The law requires that special education students be put in the least restrictive classroom environment possible. Since this kid was smart and could communicate well, and wasn't a discipline problem, he had all regular classes. His only accommodation was a one-on-one aide (me), and he was allowed to be late to classes without consequence because we sometimes had to stop in a special room, get him out of his chair, and stretch his legs a little. Basically ten minutes of physical therapy, two or three times per day. Anyway, since this kid was legally required to take all the classes a normal student his age would take, he had to take Physical Education (gym). And, legally, his aide (me) had to accommodate his participation in every class as much as possible, including gym. Most gym classes began with the students doing laps around the track, then participating in a team sport. He couldn't do the team sport, but, according to the lawyers involved, he should participate in the "laps around the track" part of gym. So I had to push this kid in a wheelchair around the track for about 15 minutes each day, until the other kids were all done and off doing the next activity. Then he and I were able to leave gym class and go do some physical therapy in his own little room just for that. Because, you know lawyers and rules. Why was the narrator shocked in the story? A. not enough information B. By how well his client can communicate and behave in class. C. By the way he had to assist his client with physical recreation. D. By how well his client could exercise in gym class.
A: C