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My wife and I wanted to share our new home with family and friends by hosting a small gathering in the early summer. She had prepared lots of snacks, while my job was to have the backyard in order.
There was plenty of space for the kids to run and play. There was just one thing I hadn’t counted on: My brother chose to bring his dog Toby, a 50-pound ball of fire. Though friendly, he could easily knock over my niece’s small boys and my six-month-old granddaughter. So, when my brother showed up, I asked him to watch Toby and keep him outside.
My plan was working out just fine. Toby was using up his energy by running back and forth in the backyard and giving the kids plenty of room. Unexpectedly, after supper, the weather changed. It started to rain and everyone went indoors.
It was an awkward moment. I didn’t want Toby to be running around in the house, and my brother wasn’t happy with driving home with a wet dog. Eventually, my brother decided to leave rather than force the issue.
A few days passed, and I hadn’t heard anything from my brother. I texted him and expressed wishes for him to come out again. His reply came as a surprise — a shock, actually: “Not a chance.” Clearly, he was unhappy over the way we had parted. After all, I had left him little choice. Well, he’ll get over it, I reasoned.
Two months passed. My wife suggested I get in touch with my brother, but I resisted, thinking he should call first. However, my conscience (良心) kept bothering me. I tried to put myself in my brother’s shoes. He was facing health issues and his wife of thirty-five years had passed away a few months earlier. Toby was his constant companion, the one who kept him going.
注意:
(1)续写词数应为150个左右;
(2)请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
With the biscuits my wife had made, I arrived at my brother’s door.
I realized it was me who was at fault. I had been so focused on keeping the party under control that I failed to consider how important Toby was to my brother during this difficult time. My pride had kept me from reaching out, and now months had passed without a proper conversation. One evening, I picked up the phone and left him a voice message, apologizing for my behavior and asking if we could meet. To my relief, he called back the next day, and we agreed to get together soon.
With the biscuits my wife had made, I arrived at my brother’s door. He opened it with a surprised smile, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. Then we hugged — something we hadn’t done since before his wife passed away. We sat on the porch with Toby resting beside us, and I handed him the box of biscuits. “Thank you,” he said quietly. We talked for hours, laughing, remembering old times, and slowly rebuilding what had been lost. As I watched Toby gently rest his head on my brother’s leg, I knew we were finally on the path to healing.