Read the passage given below:

The Perfect Dog

1. In the summer of 1967, when I was 10 years old, my father caved into my persistent pleas and took me to get my own dog. Together we drove in the family station wagon far into the Michigan countryside to a farm run by a rough-hewn woman and her ancient mother. The farm produced just one commodity — dogs. Dogs of every imaginable size and shape and age and temperament. They had only two things in common: each was a mongrel of unknown and distinct ancestry and each was free to a good home.

2. I quickly decided the older dogs were somebody else’s charity case. I immediately raced to the puppy cage. “You want to pick one that’s not timid,” my father coached. “Try rattling the cage and see which ones aren’t afraid.”

3. I grabbed the chain-link gate and yanked on it with a loud clang. The dozen or so puppies reeled backward, collapsing on top of one another in a squiggling heap of fur. Just one remained. He was gold with a white blaze on his chest, and he charged at the gate, yapping fearlessly. He jumped up and excitedly licked my fingers through the fencing. It was love at first sight.

4. I brought him home in a cardboard box and named him Shaun. He was one of those dogs that gives dogs a good name. He effortlessly mastered every command I taught him and was naturally well behaved. I could drop a crust on the floor and he would not touch it until I gave the okay.

5. Relatives would visit for the weekend and returned home determined to buy a dog of their own, so impressed were they with Shaun—or “Saint Shaun,” as I came to call him. Born with the curse of an uncertain lineage, he was one of the tens of thousands of unwanted dogs in America. Yet by some stroke of almost providential good fortune, he became wanted. He came into my life and I into his—and in the process, he gave me the childhood every kid deserves.

6. The love affair lasted fourteen years and by the time he died I was no longer the little boy who had brought him along on that summer day. I was a man, out of college and working across the state in my first real job. Saint Shaun had stayed behind when I moved on. It was where he belonged. My parents, by then retired, called to break the news to me. My mother would later tell me, “In fifty years of marriage, I’ve only seen your father cry twice. The first time was when we lost Mary Ann” — my sister, who was stillborn. “The second time was the day Shaun died.”

7. Saint Shaun of my childhood. He was a perfect dog. At least that’s how I will always remember him. It was Shaun who set the standard by which I would judge all other dogs to come. ‘ (Marley and Me by John Grogan)

Choose the most appropriate meaning of the given word from the options provided

(a) The word ‘pleas’ means

(i) to please someone (ii) noticeable

(iii) urgent request (iv) a command

(b) The word ‘collapsing’ means

(i) falling (ii) lying (iii) climbing (iv) declining

(c) The word ‘lineage’ means

(i) lining up (ii) descent from an ancestor

(iii) forefathers (iv) move forward

(d) The word ‘retired’ means

(i) to get tired (ii) withdraw from one’s work

(iii) to get hurt (iv) join work

Read the following passage:

It’s Beginning to Bite

In these trying times, when buying ordinary food stuff can burn a hole in your pockets, comes the news that can actually help us save some hard cash when we go out to shop the next time. According to a Stanford University’ study, the first of its kind in the world, there is no evidence to suggest that there are more nutritional benefits from expensive organic food than those grown by conventional methods. The researchers add that there is no difference in protein and fat content between organic and conventional milk and the vitamin count is similar in both types. The only benefit is that organic foods are not contaminated with pesticides but then before you chew on that plate of organic okra with roti made from organic wheat, they are not 100% pesticide free either. In India, organic food has been growing at 20-22% and the export market is valued at Rs 1,000 crore. Obviously, the study is not good news for that sector and for people who are big on organic food.

In India, eating organic food is more of a style statement than due to health worries because the stuff is expensive. But people who can, do indulge in not only organic vegetables but even organic eggs laid by ‘happy’ hens’, who are allowed to roam around freely whereas ‘unhappy hens’ are kept in coops. Then there are companies that have installed music channels in their cowsheds and the milk from those sheds is sold at a marked-up price since it has more nutritional value because the animals are happy thanks to lilting 24 x 7 music. We don’t know yet any farmer using music to improve his crop quality, but then you never know: plants are known to respond to music.

Why such pickiness about food? These days, the huge number of TV shows and articles that we see and read on food provide bread and butter for the specialist. But instead of decoding food, its sources and what has gone into growing it, isn’t it much better to enjoy what7s on the plate? (Adapted from The Hindustan Times)

On the basis of your reading of the above passage complete the following statements with suitable words/phrases:

(a) Buying ordinary food stuff can———-in these trying times.

(b) Organic and conventional milk has the———-and———-content and the vitamin count is also similar in both.

(c) According to a Stanford University study, organic food in relation to conventional food is ———-.

(d) One benefit of organic food is that ———-.

(e) Milk from cows which have music channels installed in the cowshed is ———-.

(f) In India, eating organic food is a ———-.

(g) The growth rate of organic food market in India is———-and the export market is valued at———.

(h) According to the author it is much better to ———- the food on one’s plate rather than ———-it.

Read the passage given below:

The Perfect Dog

1. In the summer of 1967, when I was 10 years old, my father caved into my persistent pleas and took me to get my own dog. Together we drove in the family station wagon far into the Michigan countryside to a farm run by a rough-hewn woman and her ancient mother. The farm produced just one commodity — dogs. Dogs of every imaginable size and shape and age and temperament. They had only two things in common: each was a mongrel of unknown and distinct ancestry and each was free to a good home.

2. I quickly decided the older dogs were somebody else’s charity case. I immediately raced to the puppy cage. “You want to pick one that’s not timid,” my father coached. “Try rattling the cage and see which ones aren’t afraid.”

3. I grabbed the chain-link gate and yanked on it with a loud clang. The dozen or so puppies reeled backward, collapsing on top of one another in a squiggling heap of fur. Just one remained. He was gold with a white blaze on his chest, and he charged at the gate, yapping fearlessly. He jumped up and excitedly licked my fingers through the fencing. It was love at first sight.

4. I brought him home in a cardboard box and named him Shaun. He was one of those dogs that gives dogs a good name. He effortlessly mastered every command I taught him and was naturally well behaved. I could drop a crust on the floor and he would not touch it until I gave the okay.

5. Relatives would visit for the weekend and returned home determined to buy a dog of their own, so impressed were they with Shaun—or “Saint Shaun,” as I came to call him. Born with the curse of an uncertain lineage, he was one of the tens of thousands of unwanted dogs in America. Yet by some stroke of almost providential good fortune, he became wanted. He came into my life and I into his—and in the process, he gave me the childhood every kid deserves.

6. The love affair lasted fourteen years and by the time he died I was no longer the little boy who had brought him along on that summer day. I was a man, out of college and working across the state in my first real job. Saint Shaun had stayed behind when I moved on. It was where he belonged. My parents, by then retired, called to break the news to me. My mother would later tell me, “In fifty years of marriage, I’ve only seen your father cry twice. The first time was when we lost Mary Ann” — my sister, who was stillborn. “The second time was the day Shaun died.”

7. Saint Shaun of my childhood. He was a perfect dog. At least that’s how I will always remember him. It was Shaun who set the standard by which I would judge all other dogs to come. ‘ (Marley and Me by John Grogan)

On the basis of your reading of the passage, answer the following questions briefly:

(a) What commodity did the farm produce? Which two things were common in each of these commodities?

(b) How did the author decide which puppy he wanted to take home from the dog farm?

(c) Why was Shaun one of those dogs that give dogs a good name?

(d) On what two instances did the author’s father cry?

Your city was inundated by the recent rains causing extensive water logging, traffic Snarls and ugly jams. The life of the common man was completely disrupted.

You have decided to write a letter to the editor of a local daily describing the condition of the city. Make suggestions for improvement. As Renu/Rohit, of 25, Patel Nagar, New Delhi, write this letter in 100-120 words.

Recently you came across the famous words of Swami Vivekananda which inspired a whole generation of thinkers.

Being goalless is the main problem of in today’s young generation. Write an article in 100-120 words for your school magazine on the ‘Importance of Goal-Setting in One’s life.’.