Hello I have been chased by a couple of angry dogs. I was visiting one of my clients, when, suddenly, out of the bushes, two snarling dogs attacked me. They weren't necessarily mad, as in crazy, but they were very angry. They were large dogs, and they attacked my legs, knocking me down. I knew it was very dangerous to be down on the ground, as I was most vulnerable. I covered my genitalia, my neck and my face, as I struggled to regain my feet. Fortunately, during my fall, I saw a large tree branch on the ground near me. I grabbed it, and starting beating the dogs with it. I managed to land a few good hits. As I was hitting the dogs, their owner (my client) came outside, stood on her porch and laughed at me. When she saw me hitting her dogs with a stick, she called the dogs off of me. I asked her why her dogs attacked me, and why she laughed at me. She said that she had just given her dogs a big steak bone and they were upset when I came near and attacked me. I asked her why she would set me up in this way when she knew I was on the way over. She admitted that she wanted to see what happened, and she said that when she saw what happened she thought that it was funny. I did not keep the appointment with her. My trousers were torn, and my ankles, legs, and hands were bleeding. I told her that I would not be back, and left. Later that night, her husband called to apologize on her behalf. I told him that I appreciated the call, but he wasn't the one who needed to apologize. Peace Who did the dogs belong to? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - not enough information - The husband of the woman the writer was visiting. - A woman the writer did not know. - The letter writer's client.
The letter writer's client.

Aage Llievang tried explaining to his mother, but she shook her head. "Now, Aage. Really. Your own car? A car? What would the other co-op members think?" "Mom, this is a classic! 1952 MG-TD. It's even--" "British Racing green... yes, Aage. I know. Your father knows. Your grandmother knows. We all know about the car." "But Mom, look." He waved his Handy at her. The MG glowed on its small screen. "There's one up for auction on carsforsale.com and I'm too young to bid. You've got to help me." "Aage!" She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Your age is not the problem. You can't even afford it." "I'd pay you back." How could he explain his fascination with the Vehicular Age to her? The seductive sheen, the rumble, the combustive power of automobiles called to him like a siren at sea. He coveted the sense of possibility inherent in the turn of a key. And the MG-TD held a place high in his list of hope. British Racing Green, wood dashboard and a four-stroke engine. He had only seen one MG-TD, when he'd gone on holiday with his folks to the U.K. They had been walking down the street in downtown London. Most of the traffic had been pedestrian or cyclist. The occasional fuel-cell car glided by like a ghostly leftover from the Vehicular Age. Double-decker biodiesel buses roared past regularly, trailing the odor of fish and chips after them. And then it came down the street toward them. A car that purred as its rounded lines soaked up the sun with a green so deep it was almost black. It pulled into the valet parking of a grand hotel and two people got out. Aage barely noticed them. He stared inside the car, where chrome and brass gleamed against a burled wood dashboard. The doors of the car shut with the heavy thunk of real metal. A valet pulled the car out of the parking circle and Aage never saw it again. What was Aage unable to explain to his mom? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - not enough information - Why he needed her help - His love of the Vehicular age - How to make a bid on the car auction
His love of the Vehicular age

Q: Kurt Vonnegut, writer and famous speech giver at US university graduation ceremonies, made this point to one group of soon-to-be-non-students: If this isn't nice, I don't know what is. It is the end of a story about his grandpa who, on a summer's afternoon, would find the shade of a tree under which he could rest with a glass of homemade lemonade. The family didn't have a lot of cash, the grandpa worked hard every day of his life, but no matter how relentless the day-to-day was, he would always repeat this phrase as a reminder to those around him that, at the end of the day, this is all still amazing to be part of. This kind of optimism, as you might call it, can often disappear in a flash in the busy-ness of business or school. Things become impossible, hardgoing, relentless(ly difficult). And the reasons we give for that busyness nearly always involve someone or something else - the system, the job, the weather... For many years, people would ask the salutary "how are you?" and my answer was a stock one: "I'm tired." It was my wife who pointed it out to me, presumably because everyone else was too polite to express their boredom with my reply. The fact is, most people feel tired most of the time, until they make a switch in their life. That switch is deciding that the only person who can turn that frown upside down, who can make crazy stuff happen (or attempt to, and enjoy the process), is you. And in Vonnegut's case, that switch came from saying out loud the one phrase that brings us back to the good elements in what we or our team or our family is doing at any given moment: If this isn't nice, I don't know what is. Who pointed out to the author that everyone was bored with his reply? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - his wife - not enough information - Kurt - his grandpa
A: his wife