The Man the Horse the Ox and the Dog

The cold came down hard that winter. The horse shook in the field, the ox stood deep in snow, and the dog could not feel his paws. Together they came to the man's door and asked for shelter.

"Come in," said the man. "Come in, all of you." He lit a fire to warm them. He let the horse eat his fill of oats. He gave the ox all the hay he wanted. He fed the dog meat from his own table.

"How can we repay him?" said the horse. They talked it over by the fire. They would share out the years of the man's life, they said, and each of them would fill his part with his own nature.

"I will take his young years," said the horse. And that is why the young are so wild and headstrong, and will not be told.

"I will take his middle years," said the ox. And that is why grown people work so hard, and save, and count what they have.

"Then I will take his old age," said the dog. And that is why an old man so often snaps and growls, and loves his own fireside, and barks at strangers at the gate.