The Dog in the Manger

A surly dog had made his bed inside a manger, curling up amidst the fresh, fragrant hay intended for the oxen. After a long day of labor in the fields, the oxen returned to the stable, weary and famished, yearning only for their evening meal. As they approached the manger to feast upon the fodder, the dog woke with a start. Instead of moving aside, he let out a sharp, ferocious growl, baring his teeth at the gentle beasts. The oxen, intimidated by his sudden aggression, stepped back in confusion.

Time passed, and the dog remained firmly planted in the hay, despite having no appetite for it. He was a creature of habit and spite, finding a twisted comfort in denying the hungry animals their sustenance. One of the oxen, emboldened by his growing hunger, finally spoke up. 'Friend,' he lowed softly, 'how selfish you are! You have no desire to eat this hay, nor could you even digest it if you tried. Yet, you sit here guarding it as if it were a precious treasure, preventing us from satisfying our basic needs. Why keep for yourself what you cannot use, while denying it to those who truly need it?'

The dog merely barked in response, refusing to budge. He stayed in the manger, shivering in the cold, watching the oxen go hungry throughout the long night. He gained nothing from his stance, save for the satisfaction of being difficult. By dawn, the oxen were weak and disheartened, and the dog remained as miserable as ever, having spent the night protecting a pile of dry grass that meant nothing to him. His jealousy had blinded him to the kindness of sharing, leaving him isolated in a bed of hay that brought him no warmth or joy, proving that spite is a burden carried only by the spiteful.