Posted on 02/12/2008 3:22:24 PM PST by Old Professer
Into the village of Perfect one day came limping this bedraggled and scruffy dog upon three legs. So sad the dog did seem to be that the hamlet’s sole Holy man was taken hold as though by a flash from above in his pity and shame for the creature’s suffering and loss of pride which imaged that of the people who milled about the square as the poor dog hobbled his way amid them.
The people, thought the Holy one, they see not the dog, as they see not their own slowed and stilted gait as the village’s name had come to mean less each day. This dog, the hapless cripple could not even evoke a single act of kindness from one.
The Holy one began to see the true meaning of the flash that cast before his eyes; here was redemption he exclaimed - for the village and this dog sent to teach us true and restore our faith.
“O’ People of Perfect,” he shouted, “Behold before you the dog with but three legs, can you not see him there? It is but for the loss of one leg that he is not proudly trotting among you, attend me now as we bestow on him his regained pride and strong, sure stride.”
And with those words the priest declared that from that moment on the dog would thrust his bent but still strong tail toward the ground and use it thus to take the place of the lost but not forgotten leg.
One by one, the villagers walked by and grabbed their eyes in disbelief as the tail turned down toward the ground and pushed so hard a shudder coursed through the stringy, bedraggled creature before them.
“Walk, the Holy one commanded!”
Stiffening at first, the left front leg showed sinews so long abused that they quivered for a bit, the right leg flexed and toes outstretched and now the left hind leg began to push; a sigh escaped among the awestruck crowd now grown so large to fill the square - “Walk,” they cried. “Walk like a king,” they implored.
The milling horde moved closer now in exaggerated mime, every fiber of their being directed at the miracle before them as though their own strong step would pass unto the dog still standing there on stiffened, unstarted strut; the tail now made into a leg curled somewhat and appeared to move toward the earth that bound it still.
The mass about the dog had grown quiet now, all attention upon the new leg, hundreds of wills working as one to loose those bonds and the dog’s ears lifted, I swear it smiled.
Then with but the least bit of yelp and scratch of nails, the hindmost leg bent forward first, slid back and begun to lift, the dog was standing on his tail.
Alas, the dog plopped to the ground, the crowd clamored and quarrled and shoved each other about, the priest was brushed aside in a grumbled “Fraud...” as the crowd became as before, a sullen group of untouched grumps walking only to keep from going home.
And no one looked behind to see the silly mutt lying gleefully on his back as he licked the hand of the Holy man who but shook his head sadly as the dog waved gloriously at the backs of the disappearing crowd with his tail flapping like a gale-blown flag.
For even this sorry, scruffy excuse for a dog knew that if calling a tail a leg makes not it so, why cannot the wisest know.
p
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