RED SWASTIKA SCHOOL ENGLISH LANGUAGE - COMPREHENSION SUPPLEMENTARY WORKSHEET (E) Name:_________________________ (
)
Date: ________________
Class: P5 / _____________________
Read the passage below and answer the following questions. Little Joe was brown, short-legged and sausage-shaped. He was of dubious ancestry and belonged to my sister Anna. With a great tail wagging and thumping, Little Joe went to anyone who paid attention to him. We all loved him dearly, as did the rest of the neighbourhood kids. Little Joe’s lack of pedigree caused him no discomfort, nor did it cast any stigma. He trotted around the streets as though he were nobility, with his foolish little head held high, bestowing an innocent smile on all he met – including vehicular traffic. We tried to teach him about the dangers of the road, and finally resorted to locking him in the yard. However, on one unforgettable day, Little Joe dug a hole under the fence and bounded out to visit all the friends he knew.
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Sometime later, a tearful delegation consisting of the younger members of our family augmented by excited neighbourhood children brought home the alarming news that a truck had seriously injured Little Joe. We children ran to the scene of the accident, where a small crowd had gathered around our hapless Joe. Though his eyes were open, he lay pitifully stretched out, apparently unable to move. Tears filled our eyes and also the eyes of some of the bystanders as Little Joe showed that he recognised us with a feeble wag of his tail. We huddled around him, frustrated by our inability to respond to the appeal for help we read in his eyes. And we were terrified by the pistol in the holster of the approaching policeman. He motioned us away from the dog and drew his gun. This was the accepted method in those days of dispatching injured animals. Wide-eyed, and with the defencelessness of small children looking up into a tall adult world, we began to back away with feet that seemed to be made of lead. We looked into the faces of those around us. No one could help us, and no one could help Little Joe.
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Suddenly we became aware of a commotion, and the crowd parted. My father was elbowing his way through the circle of onlookers. He spoke with authority to the young policeman, “Put that thing away! You don’t use that around children!” Then, bending on one knee on the road, he removed his worn work jacket and carefully wrapped it around Little Joe. Perhaps many events in a child’s life reach
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