My father, a critical man who criticized himself most of all, lamented that my sister and I never sought his advice.  I wonder what he’d make of how deeply one story he told me shaped my life.

It was the story of the starving wolf and the well-fed dog who met on the road.   The dog, after expressing his concern, told the wolf he had plenty of food at home and they trotted off.   The wolf noticed fur rubbed away at the back of the dog’s neck and asked “do you have a skin disease?” 

“Oh, no,” laughed the dog, “that must be from my collar.”  The wolf slowed down, asked what the collar was.  The dog explained, then told him it was used for the leash, which he also explained.  The wolf stopped, thanked the dog, and trotted off in the opposite direction, as I did.