The Dog and His Reflection

It had been the dog's lucky day. While exploring near the edge of the market square, he had sniffed out the most magnificent bone he had ever seen — long and thick and smelling absolutely wonderful. He picked it up, held his head high, and trotted off toward home with his tail wagging like a flag in the breeze.

He was the proudest dog in the world.

His route home took him over an old stone bridge above the stream. He loved this bridge. He crossed it every day.

But today, when he stepped onto the bridge, something caught his eye. He paused at the railing and looked down.

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There in the clear, still water below was another dog. And that dog had a bone in his mouth too.

The dog tilted his head. The dog in the water tilted its head.

He stared harder. Was that bone — was it bigger than his? It certainly looked bigger. It was probably better. More fragrant. More delicious.

A hot feeling rose in his chest. Why should that other dog have a bigger bone? It wasn't fair! He had found his bone fair and square, but look at that other dog down there, sitting so smug with his superior bone. Well — not for long.

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He leaned over the railing, opened his jaws wide, and snapped hard at the dog in the water.

The stream exploded into a fountain of splashing droplets. The dog in the water vanished in the churning white foam. And the bone — his bone, the real one, the magnificent one he'd found at the market — sailed out of his mouth and disappeared into the dark water with a plunk.

He stood there, soaking wet, staring down at the ripples spreading across the stream. The water settled. His reflection gazed back at him. Empty-mouthed. Foolish-looking.

The bone was gone. The other dog was gone — it had never been there at all. Just his own face, his own bone, his own greed, reflected back at him.

---

He crossed the bridge slowly and walked the rest of the way home with his head low and his tail dragging. There was nothing to show for his whole lucky day but wet fur and an empty belly.

A wise old cat watched from the garden wall as he passed.

"What happened to your bone?" she asked.

"I lost it," the dog said quietly.

"How?"

He thought about it for a moment. "I stopped being happy with what I had," he said at last. "And I reached for something that wasn't even there."

The cat nodded once and closed her eyes.

The dog went home, lay down on his rug, and thought about bones — the real kind, the kind you can actually hold — and promised himself he would never let go of a good thing again.