A few days after the incident with the baby goat, Kynthos tugged on Steve's tunic. He pointed toward the edge of the pasture.
There was the same large, snarling stray dog from before. It was digging frantically in the dirt, looking thin and exhausted.
Kynthos reached down to grab a large stone. "It's back! We have to chase it away before it hurts the goats!"
Steve placed a gentle hand on his younger brother to stop him. He remembered Grandfather's lessons on responding to hostility.
"Wait,"
Steve said. "He is dangerous, but we don't need to be cruel. A wild dog is a job for an adult. Go get Grandfather."
Kynthos found Grandfather near the workshop. Hearing his report, he nodded approvingly at their caution. He picked up his heavy wooden staff, then went to the kitchen and returned with a thick piece of leftover dried meat.
He led the boys outside and instructed them to stay safely back on the porch. Then, carrying the meat in one hand and his staff in the other, he walked slowly toward the edge of the pasture.
The dog noticed Grandfather and immediately locked its eyes on the wooden staff. It lowered its head and let out a low, defensive growl. "A stray dog that has been beaten sees a staff as a threat, not a tool," he told the boys.
Understanding the animal's fear, Grandfather slowly moved the staff behind his back. The dog's tense posture relaxed just a fraction. Very gently, Grandfather tossed the meat onto the grass between them, then took a step back.
The dog flinched, then sniffed the air. Hunger won over fear. It devoured the meat in seconds. When it looked back up at Grandfather, the aggression was gone. It gave a small wag of its tail.
They spent the afternoon carefully washing the dirt from his coat. "He is not in rough shape, just very hungry," Grandfather noted, scrubbing gently. "He must have gotten lost recently, or perhaps his owner passed away. We will keep him clean and isolated from the goats for a few days to ensure he isn't sick. He will also be less aggressive after they've been around him a while."
Grandfather smiled as the dog shook the water from his fur. "We will call him Donatus," he said. "It means 'a gift'."
A few days later, after Donatus had proven to be healthy and gentle, Kynthos was still hesitant. "But he tried to eat our goat!" he protested.
Grandfather placed a hand on Kynthos's shoulder. "He wasn't evil the other day, just hungry and acting out of fear. Somebody loved this dog once; it knows people can be friends. We are lucky we found Donatus while he was still able to trust again."
He looked at both boys seriously. "But remember: some dogs have been hurt for so long they are too far gone to be around small children. Wisdom means knowing you cannot risk your family's safety to save them. Not all beasts—and not all people—are tameable."
"But when you can safely reach out," Grandfather continued softly, "meet hostility with understanding. You might just turn an enemy into a friend."
As if to prove his point, Donatus walked over and lay down peacefully on the porch, right next to the baby goat and the boys' pet monkey, the three of them resting quietly together.
