Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 7 · column 3 of 9 · from the scan, no model involved
1st Place Grades 9-12 Laurel Gray Grade 12 Wakefield School
Scooter sat on the edge of the bed; one floppy ear cocked to listen to the voices of the people. He wagged his tail nervously as they glanced over at him. He didn’t understand what they said, but it didn’t matter. Ail that mattered was Tommy.
Scooter perked up his ears as the woman broke into tears. He didn’t understand why things had changed. Why had it been so long since he and his master played in the tall grass or swam in the pond? Scott er nudged the boy’s frail hand with his cold black nose. The boy didn’t ruffle his ears or pat his head; he didn’t even open his eyes. Scotter jumped off the bed and picked up a wind-up toy soldier from the floor.
Frank Marshall's voice quavered as he called to the dog, “Scooter boy, c’mon. Time to go out. ”
His wife said with pathetic nostaliga, “Look Frank, he doesn’t realize.
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