Labor of Love

Frank loved his critters with all his heart and cared for them as if they were his children.

His favorite was Dasiy, who had been hauling firewood to the village for ten years. Although she was aging, Frank gave her all the comforts of home.

Dusty was another story entirely. Found as a puppy wandering the woods, Dusty caused the woodsman no end of trouble.

His love of chasing the chickens was the worst, which upset them so much that they couldn’t lay their eggs. Dusty’s habit of peeing on every log upset folks when they threw the log on the fire and got a whiff of pee.

Frank wouldn’t trade any of them for a pot of gold, so it was a shock when Dasiy began having trouble transporting her load of firewood to the market each morning. Frank knew he would have to sell her for a new donkey.

“Well, old girl, it looks like you’re going to the butcher, and it breaks my heart to think of you not being here, but I need to eat, and if I can’t haul the wood to market, I will starve,” said the woodsman with tears streaming down his face.

Daisy rolled her eyes and brayed long and hard. Dusty looked at the two and suddenly shook his head as if to say, “This will not do,” then padded over to the wood pile. He dragged a log off the pile, carried it over to Frank, and dropped it at his feet.

“What are you doing, mutt?” asked Frank. Dusty barked, picked up the log, and walked toward the village.

Frank’s eyes grew large, and then he laughed loudly. “Why, you crazy hound, you crazy brilliant hound? Of course, we can all carry Daisy’s load so she can stay here with us,” said the woodsman.

The next day, Dusty was fitted with a carry-all, so now, he carried four logs while Frank strapped on his old log rack and piled on eight logs, leaving ten for Daisy.

The three traveled into the village at a brisk pace and caught the eye of the locals, who cheered and clapped to see Frank and Dusty’s labor of love. Daisy brayed and even had the strength to give a little kick.

With Daisy’s load reduced, the old girl lived a long life. After she passed, Frank and Dusty left the woodsman’s work and retired in a hut to fish and sing songs of old. Dusty still pees on the wood pile, but Frank doesn’t mind; his sense of smell faded long ago.