Cajaj
Sep 7, 2011
Scholarship / "What does philanthropy mean to you" - application to an internship [3]
Hello,
Please be nice as you grade. People write from their hearts.
I need some help with a good ending.
Also, I once posted an essay on essayforum but I saw another kid's essay and they copied off mine for the exact same school I was applying to with that essay (during Undergrad applying). Please don't do that to me again.
Thanks,
Here it is:
1. What does philanthropy mean to you and how does this understanding impact your pursuit of this internship opportunity?
Each statement should be approximately 500 words in length.
"Stop that cat!" my cousin yells as we run after the furry Figaro. I tried to open the door carefully so she wouldn't get inside the house, but Figaro's a lot skinnier than she looks. Now, she dodges the table legs, hops onto the velvet couch, steps on the laptop, and slides across the waxed hardwood floor. Once my cousin finally catches her, he puts her outside and chains her to the birdcage, her temporary home. I had wanted her to live in the house, not outside, but since my brother has allergies, Figaro was booted out.
When the three of us bought Figaro from the flea market for five dollars, we thought we were doing an act of charity by saving her from the place where dogs didn't wag their tails, parrots didn't talk, and cats stuffed in brown boxes looked like huge dust bunnies from the lack of grooming. We knew Figaro needed love right away. So after flying out of the market, we headed straight home to give her a can of tuna--the first of our kind gestures. Within a week under our care, Figaro changed from being a fragile cat that despised human hands to an agile finger nibbling friend.
But although we all adored Figaro at first, staying outside late at night to make sure she went to sleep, pouring warm milk with brown sugar into her bowl, and buying many toys for her to gnaw at, my brother and cousin started to lose interest in her--complaining about all the work they had to do for her. Of course taking care of Figaro was going to be a lot of work, but that was part of the deal when we rescued her. Wasn't it? They didn't think so.
"Animals don't have feelings," they said to me. But I knew animals did. Though different physically, they have souls just like humans do.
My brother, instead of preparing a bath for Figaro, sprayed her with cold water from the hose. My cousin, annoyed of how she would pad pad pad into the garage, would shoo her away with a stick. I'd go to Figaro afterwards and pet her, gently cooing to make her feel better. But then one day, when I was out buying a little cat house for her--after all, the birdcage was no home for a cat--my cousin got so mad at Figaro for coming into the garage that he kicked her.
"You should've seen it! She sommersaulted a foot in the air." said my brother, trying not to laugh.
"Where is she?" I asked, eyes widening. After searching for her near the birdcage and in the garage, I found Figaro sitting on the patio gazing at the sunset. She glanced at me then continued looking into the distance.
"Oh, Figaro, it's ok," I say as I lean down to pet her like I usually do. But when she feels my fingers on her head, she gets up, takes two steps away from me, and sits back down. I knew she had feelings, even if she was a cat; Figaro was hurting. Nobody deserved what she was going through. I left her by herself to let her think things over and feel better. Something had to be done.
The next day, I took Figaro to the animal shelter, hesitating. Maybe this isn't a good idea. But then I realised I wasn't doing this for myself. I was doing it for her. (something about how you are separated from her in the end and highlight how you did something for her betterment because she was not a cat to me, she was a friend. I want to help those who are... connect to opportunity (internship)).
Hello,
Please be nice as you grade. People write from their hearts.
I need some help with a good ending.
Also, I once posted an essay on essayforum but I saw another kid's essay and they copied off mine for the exact same school I was applying to with that essay (during Undergrad applying). Please don't do that to me again.
Thanks,
Here it is:
1. What does philanthropy mean to you and how does this understanding impact your pursuit of this internship opportunity?
Each statement should be approximately 500 words in length.
"Stop that cat!" my cousin yells as we run after the furry Figaro. I tried to open the door carefully so she wouldn't get inside the house, but Figaro's a lot skinnier than she looks. Now, she dodges the table legs, hops onto the velvet couch, steps on the laptop, and slides across the waxed hardwood floor. Once my cousin finally catches her, he puts her outside and chains her to the birdcage, her temporary home. I had wanted her to live in the house, not outside, but since my brother has allergies, Figaro was booted out.
When the three of us bought Figaro from the flea market for five dollars, we thought we were doing an act of charity by saving her from the place where dogs didn't wag their tails, parrots didn't talk, and cats stuffed in brown boxes looked like huge dust bunnies from the lack of grooming. We knew Figaro needed love right away. So after flying out of the market, we headed straight home to give her a can of tuna--the first of our kind gestures. Within a week under our care, Figaro changed from being a fragile cat that despised human hands to an agile finger nibbling friend.
But although we all adored Figaro at first, staying outside late at night to make sure she went to sleep, pouring warm milk with brown sugar into her bowl, and buying many toys for her to gnaw at, my brother and cousin started to lose interest in her--complaining about all the work they had to do for her. Of course taking care of Figaro was going to be a lot of work, but that was part of the deal when we rescued her. Wasn't it? They didn't think so.
"Animals don't have feelings," they said to me. But I knew animals did. Though different physically, they have souls just like humans do.
My brother, instead of preparing a bath for Figaro, sprayed her with cold water from the hose. My cousin, annoyed of how she would pad pad pad into the garage, would shoo her away with a stick. I'd go to Figaro afterwards and pet her, gently cooing to make her feel better. But then one day, when I was out buying a little cat house for her--after all, the birdcage was no home for a cat--my cousin got so mad at Figaro for coming into the garage that he kicked her.
"You should've seen it! She sommersaulted a foot in the air." said my brother, trying not to laugh.
"Where is she?" I asked, eyes widening. After searching for her near the birdcage and in the garage, I found Figaro sitting on the patio gazing at the sunset. She glanced at me then continued looking into the distance.
"Oh, Figaro, it's ok," I say as I lean down to pet her like I usually do. But when she feels my fingers on her head, she gets up, takes two steps away from me, and sits back down. I knew she had feelings, even if she was a cat; Figaro was hurting. Nobody deserved what she was going through. I left her by herself to let her think things over and feel better. Something had to be done.
The next day, I took Figaro to the animal shelter, hesitating. Maybe this isn't a good idea. But then I realised I wasn't doing this for myself. I was doing it for her. (something about how you are separated from her in the end and highlight how you did something for her betterment because she was not a cat to me, she was a friend. I want to help those who are... connect to opportunity (internship)).
