by Antonio Napoli

A man who had emigrated from Africa to the West returned to his relatives, who welcomed him eagerly, eager to hear tales of the wonders of that distant world. The emigrant sat among them and began to tell a story.

“A man owned two dogs: one trained to guard the house, the other to hunt. The first had to keep watch and sound the alarm in case of danger; the second had to chase prey. For a while, the master seemed to have found the right balance between them, but as the years passed, things changed.

The dogs, now weary, began to grumble among themselves.

‘Once, my job was clear,’ said the guard dog. ‘All I had to do was bark to warn of an intruder. But then the master began to demand more. Now, I must not only warn but also fight. He keeps ordering me: “Run, run, bark, bark!” But how can I do both at once? If I chase a thief, I can’t stop to bark! And besides, why should I risk my life to protect something that isn’t even mine?’

The hunting dog sighed and shook his head. ‘Don’t think I have it any better. I used to know exactly what to expect: I chased the game, delivered it, and received a share of the spoils in return. But now? Now the master sends me hunting, I catch the prey, but the reward grows smaller and smaller. And if I dare take a bite for myself, he scolds me harshly: “When will you learn that work is an appetite that must be kept in check?” And I think to myself: “How is it fair that he alone enjoys the fruit of my labor?”‘

Meanwhile, the master called them, frustrated by their refusal to obey. Shaking his head, he muttered: ‘I will never turn them into faithful and efficient companions. Guarding and hunting are going to ruin. Perhaps I have treated them too well… That must be the problem. I complain, but deep down, I know: if you starve your dog, he will follow you. If you fatten him, he will bite you.’