南希第一个走到卡车跟前，在她打开车门的一刹那，史努比认出了她。她高兴地大声叫着，爬过座位，扑入南希的怀抱。随后乔和孩子们也出现了。他们悲喜交加地拥抱着史努比，互相庆贺着，这个没有舍弃家庭中最小成员的一家又一次相聚在一起。
gamble [' g鎚bl] v. 赌博；孤注一掷
The shop took a gamble by cutting the price of their products.
商店冒险将产品降价出售。
materialize [m' tirilaiz] v. 使有形；体现；实现
I' m afraid that his plan cann' t materialize.
我恐怕他的计划无法实现。
scrupulously [' skru:pjulsli] adv. 小心翼翼地；多顾虑地
In many Chinese families, people scrupulously abide by filial piety.
在许多中国家庭里，人们恪守孝道。
jubilantly [' du:bilntli] adv. 欢欣地；喜气洋洋地
People jubilantly go to see the film.
人们兴致勃勃地去看这部电影。
南希和孩子都非常想家，而且他们的积蓄也快用完了。
你绝不要放弃，一定要坚持等我们。
他们悲喜交加地拥抱着史努比，互相庆贺着，这个没有舍弃家庭中最小成员的一家又一次相聚在一起。
... and obligingly cocked her head and showed off the new leash that was a gift from Cathy.
show off：炫耀；卖弄
In honor of Saint Patrick' s Day, the little dog sported a new green coat with a green derby pinned to the collar.
in honor of：为纪念（为向……表示敬意；为庆祝）
死敌博吉
The Dog Next Door
佚名 / Anonymous
When I was about thirteen years old, back home in Indiana, Pennsylvania, I had a dog named Bounce. He was just a street dog of indeterminate parentage who had followed me home from school one day. Kind of Airedaleish but of an orange color, Bounce became my close companion. He' d frolic alongside me when I' d go into the woods to hunt arrowheads and snore at my feet when I' d build a model airplane. I loved that dog.
Late one summer I had been away to a Boy Scout camp at Two Lick Creek, and when I got home Bounce wasn' t there to greet me. When I asked Mother about him, she gently took me inside. "I' m so sorry, Jim, but Bounce is gone." "Did he run away?" "No, son, he' s dead." I couldn' t believe it. "What happened?" I choked. "He was killed." "How?" Mom looked over to my father.He cleared his throat. "Well, Jim," he said, "Bogy broke his chain, came over and killed Bounce." I was aghast. Bogy was the next-door neighbors' English bulldog. Normally he was linked by a chain to a wire that stretched about 100 feet across their backyard.
I was grief-stricken and angry. That night I tossed and turned. The next morning I stepped out to look at the bulldog, hoping to see at least a gash in its speckled hide. But no, there on a heavier chain stood the barrel-chested villain. Every time I saw poor Bounce' s empty house, his forlorn blanket, his food dish,I seethed with hatred for the animal that had taken my best friend.
Finally one morning I reached into my closet and pulled out the 22-coliber Remington rifle which Dad had given me the past Christmas. I stepped out into our backyard and climbed up into the apple tree. Perched in its upper limbs, I could see the bulldog as he traipsed up and down the length of his wire.With the rifle I followed him in the sights. But every time I got a bead on him, tree foliage got in the way.
Suddenly a gasp sounded from below. "Jim, what are you doing up there?" Mom didn' t wait for an answer. Our screen door slammed and I could tell she was on the phone with my father at his hardware store. In a few minutes our Ford chattered into the driveway. Dad climbed out and came over to the apple tree. "Come down, Jim," he said gently. Reluctantly, I put the safety on and let myself down onto the summer-seared grass.
The next morning, Dad, who knew me better than I knew myself, said, "Jim, after you finish school today, I want you to come to the store."
That afternoon I trudged downtown to Dad' s hardware store, figuring he wanted the windows washed or something.He stepped out from behind the counter and led me back to the stockroom. We edged past kegs of nails, coils of garden hose and rolls of screen wire over to a corner. There squatted my hated nemesis, Bogy, tied to a post. "Now here' s the bulldog," Dad said. "This is the easy way to kill him if you still feel that way." He handed me a short-barreled. 22-caliber rifle. I glanced at him questioningly. He nodded.
I took the gun, lifted it to my shoulder and sighted down the black barrel. Bogy, brown eyes regarding me, panted happily, pink tongue peeking from tusked jaws. As I began to squeeze the trigger, a thousand thoughts flashed through my mind while Dad stood silently by. But my mind wasn' t silent; all of Dad' s teaching about our responsibility to defenseless creatures, fair play, right and wrong, welled within me. I thought of Mom loving me after I broke her favorite china serving bowl.
Suddenly the rifle weighed a ton and the sight wavered in my vision. I lowered it and looked up at Dad helplessly. A quiet smile crossed his face and he clasped my shoulder. "I know, son," he said gently. I realized then: He had never expected me to pull that trigger. In his wise, deep way he let me face my decision on my own. I never did learn how Dad managed to arrange Bogy' s presence that afternoon, but I know he had trusted me to make the right choice.
A tremendous relief overwhelmed me as I put down the gun. I knelt down with Dad and helped untie Bogy, who wriggled against us happily, his stub tail wiggling furiously.
That night I slept well for the first time in days. The next morning as I leaped down the back steps, I saw Bogy next door and stopped. Dad ruffled my hair. "Seems you' ve forgiven him, son."
I raced off to school. Forgiveness, I found, could be exhilarating.
在我大约13岁时，我回到了宾夕法尼亚州的老家——印第安纳，养了只叫鲍恩斯的狗。那是只身份不明的流浪狗。一天放学后，他就跟我回了家。鲍恩斯似乎是那种硬毛杂种猎犬，只是皮毛是橘黄色。我们成了亲密的伙伴，我进林子找慈姑，他就在我身旁嬉戏；我做飞机模型，他就倒在我脚边打呼噜。我太喜欢他了。
一年暮夏，我去双舔溪参加童子军营。等我回家时，鲍恩斯却没有上前迎接我。我问母亲他去哪里了，她温柔地把我带进屋内，“吉姆，很遗憾，鲍恩斯不在了。”“跑了吗？”“不，孩子，他死了。”我简直无法相信。“出了什么事？”我哽咽着问。“他被咬死了。”“怎么被咬死的？”母亲望了望父亲。父亲清了清嗓子说道：“吉姆，博吉扯断了链子，跑过来咬死了他。”我顿时呆住了。博吉是邻居家的一只英国叭喇狗，平常总是套着链子，被拴在他们家后院的约100英尺长的铁丝栏杆上。
我悲愤交加，当晚彻夜未眠。第二天早上，我跑去看那只叭喇狗，希望能发现他那布满斑点的身上至少有一个又深又长的伤口。可是除了那只强壮的恶犬被拴在一条比原先更粗的链子上，我什么也没发现。每当看到可怜的鲍恩斯那座空荡荡的狗屋，那再也用不上的毯子、食盆时，我就不禁怒火冲天，恨透了那只恶犬，因为他夺走了我最好的朋友。
终于有一天早上，我翻了壁橱，找到了那只口径22英寸的雷明顿猎枪，那是爸爸在去年圣诞节送我的。走进我们家后院，我爬上苹果树，站在高高的树干上，我看到博吉正在铁丝围栏边上闲逛。我透过瞄准器把枪口对准他，可是每次瞄准，准备击中他时，树叶就挡住了我的视线。
