The Ass and the Wolf

The donkey had his mouth full of clover when he saw the wolf coming through the long grass.

It was too late to run. So he lifted one back foot off the ground and began to limp. Hobble, hobble, hobble.

"What is wrong with your foot?" asked the wolf, showing all his teeth. "A thorn," groaned the donkey. "I trod on it in the hedge. It is long and sharp. I know you have come to eat me, and I cannot run away. But please, pull it out first. It could stick in your throat."

The wolf thought about his throat. "Good idea," he said. He bent down and lifted the foot in his paws. He peered at it from the left. He peered at it from the right. He gave his whole mind to finding that thorn.

Crack! Both heels hit him in the mouth and knocked his teeth in. And away went the donkey across the meadow, with no hobble at all.

The wolf sat up slowly and felt his sore jaw. "It serves me right," he said. "My father was a butcher, and he made me one too. Why did I try to be a doctor?"