The Dog, the Wolf and God

Abundance

The day had grown steadily hotter and by mid-afternoon even the fluffy flock of clouds that grazed on the sky had melted away. The sun beat down mercilessly. Not a breeze blew, not a leaf stirred. The Dog had been walking for so many hours that his throat was parched and his tongue hung from his jaws like a dead fish. He’d never been so thirsty in his life.

What an absurd place, he thought. Not a drop of water anywhere!

He reminisced about his clever Owner who always brought a backpack along, with some tasty snack wrapped in a red and white checked cloth and a flask full of water.

But I am just a stupid dog … How foolish he’d been to set off on this adventure, following the words of a wolf. The Wolf said that leg of deer would give me the strength to reach Moon Mountain. But the meat is already finished, and there’s no trace of the mountain. So I don’t owe him anything any more, thought the Dog. I’m stopping here!

As his breath quietened and his heartbeat settled the Dog began to hear an alarming hiss. But if it was a snake, it neither came closer nor moved away. Fear gradually turned to curiosity and the Dog heaved himself onto his paws to peek around the next bend. He was stunned to find himself on an old stone bridge suspended above a mountain torrent, which came frothing forth in a marvellous waterfall, over which a beautiful rainbow hung.

‘He was stunned to find himself on an old stone bridge suspended above a mountain torrent…’

Oh, it was like a mirage!

The delighted Dog danced with wild abandon; he’d never seen so much clear, sparkling water. The air was filled with its fragrance and the greenish rocks seemed redolent with the promise of fertility. It was nothing at all like the piddling little water taps he’d known in his kitchen back home.

‘This flow of water never ends!’ he cried deliriously. ‘Where does such abundance come from? What a glorious folly, what a waste, what a miracle! Why, there must be enough water gushing by here to quench the thirst of every living creature in the world!’

Shaking himself out of his rapture, the Dog dashed across the bridge to climb down to the torrent. But the walls of rock were too steep and he couldn’t risk falling because he didn’t know how to swim. So he raced back over the bridge and tried descending on the opposite bank, but there too the mossy green rocks were slimy and sheer and when he persisted his paws slipped and he fell hard on his back and was lucky to get away with just a nasty cut.

The Dog was dying of thirst and it drove him mad to see all that water down below, which seemed to be laughing and playing, and not be able to reach it. Yet there was nothing to do but leave it and continue on his way.

CHAPTER SIX

The Beggar’s Bowl

Sitting on a rock with a distant view, the Dog tried to think. A few days ago life had been so simple, but ever since he’d accepted the Wolf’s gift things had taken such a peculiar turn that he couldn’t avoid asking himself ‘Why?’ and ‘How?’

The truth was, though, that the Dog wasn’t used to asking himself many questions because he’d always left it to his Owner to know the answers. Now that his Owner wasn’t around, could he, on his own, find that unspeakable Something which every day takes care of every living being? And, more importantly, would it really take care of him too?

He took a deep breath and set off again on the path, one step at a time, until he came upon a small group of houses. They seemed as abandoned as the fields surrounding them. He couldn’t hear the barking of dogs, or the grunts of men and women at work, or the laughter of children at play. The trees of the forest had silently crept into the living rooms, poked their heads through the roofs and waved their leafy hands out of broken windows.

The Dog was overjoyed to see a human again and tried to communicate using every trick he knew. He waved his tail and whimpered, he bent his knees, dragged himself along the ground and begged with his pitiful eyes…

‘Water, water, water!’ barked the Dog in desperation.

His voice echoed around the derelict walls. Suddenly a window above him burst open and out leaned an old woman with long, tangled hair.

‘Whatchoo want?’ she yelled, with the tone of someone who’s been woken from their afternoon nap.

The Dog was overjoyed to see a human again and tried to communicate using every trick he knew. He waved his tail and whimpered, he bent his knees, dragged himself along the ground and begged with his pitiful eyes, all the while repeating what he’d been saying from the start: ‘Water, water, please give me a bowl of water!’

What else could he do? His Owner would certainly have understood.

The window slammed shut.

The Dog’s tail dropped between his legs, his ears fell and he lowered his head. And as he did so he noticed once more that the sparkle of his collar was gone, that his paws were caked in mud, that his fur was dishevelled and plastered with blood from the fall, that in barely a few days of living on his own he’d become a poor, ragged stray. A beggar. One of those wretched creatures that have neither beauty nor joy to offer and so are of no interest to anyone.

Never had he imagined that he, who’d once been a respectable dog, could fall so low. How quickly our destinies can change!

He was just about to start crying again when he heard the clank-clank-clank of an ancient lock, a door swung open and the old woman emerged holding a bowl brimming with water.

It was a rusty bowl, with holes in it too. But in the moment when she laid it before the Dog he understood that this common liquid, which he’d always taken for granted, which now flowed down his parched throat like medicine for his aching body, was actually the elixir of life. It was the most magical potion in the whole world.

Never had he imagined that he, who’d once been a respectable dog, could fall so low. How quickly our destinies can change!

The Dog threw himself at the old woman’s feet. In a flash he imagined himself staying here with her. She would adopt him and be his new Owner. And he would keep her company and listen to her stories when she was sad (he was an excellent listener, even when he didn’t understand every word). And she would rub his ears. And he would live in this derelict village, close to the woods, which he could explore …

He was so happy, and still so very thirsty, that he leapt up to lick the old woman’s face. She got a fright, seized her stick and struck him several times on the head.

‘Go away, you filthy beast! You’ve had your water so don’t you be hanging round here for more. I got enough troubles of me own without some lazy good-for-nothing like you. Go away, shoo, shoo!’

The Dog obeyed, as he’d always obeyed humans and, with a heavy heart, ran away from the quiet little village.