At the age of 17, I formed a band with three classmates. After we won the first prize at our school’s talent show, we decided to see if we could get some local performances. When we found out we’d gotten booked for a charitable event at a large hospital, we were excited. For two weeks, we practiced hard, getting together every day after school to sharpen our skills and learn enough songs to fill a one-hour show.

On the day of the concert, we showed up early to check out the stage. We set up and did a quick sound check, then went backstage to have a soda and rest. While we were back there, the hospital’s entertainment director came over to talk to us.

“Okay, boys, I just want to fill you in on a couple of important details,” she told us. “A lot of the people in the audience are suffering from severe physical or mental disabilities. Also, many of them are very old. Don’t let that alarm you. They have very few chances to see live entertainment of any kind, so they enjoy any kind of musical talent. Just play your regular show, and you’ll do fine.” With that, she left, going to help the volunteers and staff that were assisting the patients to their seats.

Soon enough, it was showtime. Everything was perfect, and we played probably the best show of our lives. We hardly missed a note on any of our songs. Unfortunately, we couldn’t enjoy our performance. As each song finished, there was a short pause. This was the time when the audience would normally applaud. Now, we were getting nothing. Zero. The deafening silence only made us more determined to win the audience over. We tried harder. Loud songs, soft songs, it made no difference. After forty-five minutes, we decided to end our set early. Why bother finishing when no one was appreciating us anyway? We unplugged (拔去) our instruments and went backstage.

A moment later, the entertainment director ran back to us.

Returning to the stage, we played our final three songs.

In my childhood, my teacher Mrs. Hunter announced that our class would complete a pen-friend project. We would write letters to children in some African countries to make friends with them. So all of us needed to bring stationery (信纸) to school the next day.

Finding some beautiful stationery which was designed with lovely cartoon characters, such as Minnie Mouse and Snow White in the store, I asked my mother to buy it for me. At the store, we learned that a pack of ten pieces of such stationery cost close to seven dollars.

“You’ll have to use common paper,” my mother said. Then, she bought a pack of cheap common paper for me. Obviously, there weren’t any cartoon characters on the paper, so I was upset and disappointed. At that time, I didn’t know my mother was facing some financial (财政的) problems and was trying hard to support the family.

That night, my mother, a lover of schedules, sent me to the bed at the usual time of 9：30. But then instead of going to bed as she normally did, she remained in the living room. When I didn’t hear the voice of a news host through the TV, I wondered what exactly kept my mother up past her bedtime. Walking up to her I found she bent beneath our single lamp, sketching (画素描). When I asked what she was drawing, my mother just covered the page with her arms and ordered me to return to my bed. A week ago, I had begged her for a new box of crayons and she refused. Now I wanted beautiful stationery and she refused again. That night, I lay in bed looking at the moon, believing I was the unluckiest girl in the world.

The next morning, my mother’s eyes were black-ringed, and she looked so tired while preparing the breakfast of oatmeal (燕麦糊) in the kitchen. “Drink it before school,” she said, pointing at the food.

“I don’t want any,” I said unhappily, still upset she didn’t buy beautiful stationery for me.

“Mom, the cartoon characters are so beautiful”I said, with a smile.“Thank you.”

“Good news,” Mom said, with a bright smile on her face. "The Parker family wants Surfer. They'll be here in an hour to take him home. ” Surfer had been with us for two days. While I was sad at the thought of seeing him go, I knew I couldn't keep him.

My family operate a foster home（收养所）for pets. Surfer had been in an animal shelter, and he was sent to us so we could place him with a loving family. Surfer was a cute puppy, so finding a home for him had been very easy. Dad entered Surfer's information into a pet adoption website, along with some photos, and within a few hours, the Parkers applied to adopt him. Mom looked over their application, and they seemed like responsible people, so she called them.

However, not every dog was so lucky. Zooey was nine years old, and she'd been with us for a few months. It seemed like nobody wanted to adopt an older dog. Dad said that was a shame because older dogs made wonderful companions. Zooey's previous owner had treated her terribly, and when she was sent to us she was injured. I remember how angry Dad seemed at the time. "No dog should be treated like that,“ he said.

When Zooey came to us, she was upset around everyone. She barked at our two dogs as if in defense and backed away when I tried to approach her. But with our considerate care, it wasn't long before Zooey trusted us. I took her on walks around the neighborhood and got her used to other people and dogs. She took a real liking to Surfer. In fact, they often curled together as they napped（打盹）.

The Parkers soon arrived, and we all went into the backyard so they could meet with Surfer. Zooey followed us out, her tail wagging lazily, as Surfer rolled in the grass with the two Parker children.