Gwyn, my youngest daughter, held Tiger as we drove down the country road to the vet’s（兽医） on what was to be his last Friday morning. Privately, both of us nursed a forlorn (几乎无望的) hope. We joked and laughed, trying to ignore the shadow hanging over the cat sitting very quietly in her arms.                

At 16, Tiger was old for a cat. In quiet dignity, he let Gwyn pet him, perhaps understanding that this was a special trip. I glanced at the two as I drove, and thought back to the day when Tiger entered our lives.

He had been a Christmas present to my second son Brian, handed down—as were his clothes and toys—from his older brother. Sadly, even our dogs had neglected Brian, responding much more eagerly to my commands, and those of my wife and older boy.

And so, on Christmas Day 1954, I rose early with my wife to put the tiny kitten（小猫） a neighbor had given us into the stocking that Brian had carefully hung to the mantel the night before. The first of my vivid memories involving Tiger is the look of joy on Brian’s face when he saw the kitten’s face ,when he saw the kitten’s head poking out of the stocking, and heard the plaintive “meow” that proved his present was alive.

From then on, Tiger’s life was filled with love. Brian cared for him tenderly, fed him, played with him. For a sometimes rough, sometimes clumsy child, Brian showed a gentleness with Tiger that was amazing. And at midnight, I would invariably find Tiger on Brian’s bed, stretched out beside him.

My next clear memory of Tiger is also a happy one, which came after near-tragedy. One evening our next-door neighbor rang the front doorbell. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she said when my wife answered the door, “but when I backed out of the driveway this noon, I’m afraid I ran your cat. I tried to help him, but he jumped up and ran away. I don’t know where he went or how badly he was hurt.”

Four weeks passed with no sign of Tiger. Soldier-like, Brian tried to hide his fear that his friend had crawled away to die. It was a fear we all shared. And we came to accept his death—all of us except Brian.

Every evening Brian would go to the door and call Tiger’s name. Finally, on the 28^th day after the neighbor’s announcement, Brian had an answer. Out from under the front porch came Tiger, his tail high, walking with the pride and majesty he customarily displayed, behaving as if he had never been away. As he approached the door, Brian’s face was transformed with joy. But neither he nor Tiger displayed open affection in front of the family. There was a calm acceptance, an honoring by each of the other’s dignity. That night, though, when I checked Brian’s room, I saw that his cheeks were wet and a blissful smile was on his face. And his arm encircled his cat, who lay purring quietly beside him.

64. From the first paragraph, we know that _________.

A. Tiger was a cat and was dying      

B. Tiger was a real tiger and was dying

C. Tiger was the second son of the writer

D. Tiger was a Christmas present to the writer’s daughter

65. The accident happened to Tiger was that _________.

A. Tiger had a serious disease

B. Tiger was hit by the car when the neighbor backed out of the driveway

C. Tiger had crawled away to die

D. Tiger was hit to death

66. Which of the following statements is wrong?

A. Tiger’s life was filled with love.

B. Brian loved Tiger very much and tried his best to care for him.

C. When there was no sign of Tiger, Brian didn’t believe that he was dead.

D. When Tiger approached the door, Brian burst into tears.

67. From the passage we can draw a conclusion that_________.

A. in America, people love pets such as cats and dogs

B. there are at least five people in the family

C. boys like to look after animals

D. boys like to sleep with cats lying beside them