Nasreddin Hoca had a donkey. One day he got it into his head that he could save a lot of money on feed by training the donkey not to eat. So every day he gave his donkey just a little less food. At first the animal seemed to labor on as if nothing had changed. Even after his diet had been halved, the poor strong young donkey just soldiered on. But eventually, as his daily caloric intake got reduced to almost nothing, he got weaker and weaker and slower and slower, but Nasreddin was so happy at the money he was saving through his brilliant austerity plan that he didn’t even notice.
Then one fine day, the poor, martyred beast just up and died on him, on the road, right from under his legs.
Dead.
“Damn,” said Nasreddin, “and just when he had learned not to eat.”
And without a donkey’s back to ride, he had to walk.
(All Nasreddin Hoca stories are versions learned from my father and I think would be public domain already anyway.)
Comment: nikobakos@gmail.com
Jadde: from Bosnia to Bengal 