Problem: 
Q: Yes, and I am not proud of it, but grief makes you do some really stupid things. My wife walked out of our 9 year marriage and into relationship on the same day with a (so-called) friend of mine that I had known for 25 years. I was completely blindsided and in shock. I was devastated, I was lost, and I was grieving terribly. I had not only lost my wife, but I had also lost my best friend (her, not the asshole so-called friend), and her family. While I was not particularly close to her family (most did not like me according to my ex-wife) I did care about them and they were are part of my life. I absolutely loved her sister and always enjoyed hanging out with her, as well as one of her cousins. Luckily they are both still friends with me on FB so I get to keep in touch. Anyway, I am not proud of the fact that I created a fake FB account to check her page and even talked to her through IM’s. I thought that if I could just talk to her, even if not as me, that I would be okay. However, seeing photos of her with someone else just about broke me. It was a very stupid thing to do and only made matters worse. One day I forgot to block my location and she figured out it was me. I felt so stupid, but I had loved her so much that I needed her in my life. She called me out on it. I was busted. I was the grieving idiot that did not want to give up. She just married that person 2 weeks ago, and honestly….I just want her to be happy. I miss her, I always will, and in hindsight, I don’t know why she stayed with me as long as she did. I was not an easy person to love. According to the above context, answer the following question. The writer probably believes that:
Answer: It is his fault for the divorce
Problem: 
Q: It was not entirely true that Patch knew there was food in the mountains. He had never been to the mountains. No squirrel in all the Center Kingdom, as far as he knew, had ever been to the mountains. For between the kingdom and the mountains, surrounding it on all sides like a moat around a castle, there lay a blasted concrete wasteland, as wide as fifty squirrels laid nose to tail, and horrific death machines roared up and down this wasteland at terrifying speeds, all day and night. What's more, humans and dogs often crossed between the mountains and the kingdoms. And sometimes the dogs were not leashed. A squirrel would have to be very desperate indeed to dare the wastelands. It was Toro who had told Patch about the food in the mountains. Toro was Patch's friend. And that itself was extraordinary. Patch had always talked to birds. The drey he had grown up in -- Silver's old drey, before she became leader of the Seeker clan -- had been only a few branches away from a nest of robins. Once, in early spring when he was still a baby, Patch had crawled out of Silver's drey and into the robin's nest, and had spent a whole day among the chicks before Silver returned home and retrieved him. The robin mother had been unamused by Silver's profound apologies, and even less amused when Patch had returned to her nest the very next day. Eventually Silver taught Patch to leave the robins alone, but not before he had learned how to speak Bird. Most squirrels of the Center Kingdom could say and understand a few simple things in Bird, but Patch could actually hold conversations. And so, one autumn day when a bluejay swooped past and stole an acorn out of Patch's paws, Patch shouted angrily at the thief in Bird to bring it back; and the thief, intrigued, wheeled around in midair, perched on a branch above Patch, and looked curiously down at the irate squirrel. "Thieving feather-brained no-nose hawkbait!" Patch shouted up. "Stupid blind furry groundworm!" the bluejay retorted, and began to peck at the acorn. According to the above context, answer the following question. About how long did it probably take Patch to become fluent in Bird?
Answer: five minutes
Problem: 
Q: Justin Nelson, Jr., pounded the last of the stakes of his new cattle pen into the dry dirt. Like sentinels, they sprouted in a line from the barn, swerved north of the stream, veered at a right angle for the stump, and followed Justin to where he stood. The cross-beams remained, after which he'd finally be done. He took a white handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wiped his forehead. The task had been lengthened considerably, although Justin refused to admit it, by incessant thinking, an activity which often stopped him with his hammer in mid-air. But now, he would soon be able to think all he wanted from the comfort of his porch as the cattle wandered from shade to shade. After he bought some cattle, he reminded himself. Under the entirely blue vault of sky, Justin felt something pass between himself and the morning sun. His leathered face turned up to see nothing but ubiquitous light, curving toward him in all directions. He arched his aging back, feeling the popping and hating it more than usual, before wiping his neck and replacing the handkerchief. He had that feeling that he'd better drink something and sit down or he'd end up in that damn hospital again. Twice last year, whether he needed it or not, he went in for a check-up, and twice a year, some intern treated him like the village idiot. Truth be told, everyone who knew about him had treated him that way for nearly eleven years, except his niece. With a sigh escaping from the bellows of his withering chest, Justin shuffled back to the porch he had added onto his small two-room home. In the distance, a plume of dust was billowing off the road. Mail truck. Must be time for breakfast. About time I ate something. According to the above context, answer the following question. What did Justin do after building the fence?
Answer:
He shuffled back to the porch.