Once upon a time there lived a little grey dog. He lived with his young master by the edge of a forest- he in a cosy kennel and the master in a tumbledown cottage. Every morning the grey dog would trot at his master's heels to go into the dim darkness of the forest to hunt for partridges and deer- for the master was a hunter and sold his game at the village market each day. The little dog loved his master dearly, and hunted alongside him as best he could, but somehow between the two of them they could never gather as much as a few small game each day. His master did not seem to mind though. However fruitful the hunt he still returned home whistling cheerfully, cleaned his kill and got them ready to be brought to the market to sell. From the money he earned he would buy just enough bread and meat for his dog and himself, and life went on like this for as long as anyone could care to remember.
One day, upon returning from the market, the young master called for his dog.
" Look at what I've brought from the market!" He cried as his dog came to him. "I bought it from a travelling gypsy. Is it not beautiful?" As he spoke, he drew out from his game bag a small metal cage. Inside it was a beautiful yellow canary. The dog sniffed at it with great interest, and its tail thumped in approval. The little canary gave on sweet thrill, and henceforth the two became good friends.
The bird was not permitted to leave her cage, but when master left for the market each day, the dog would curl up by the cage and the two animals would talk about their lives. The dog would tell the canary all about his troubles; how he tried his best to capture as much game as he could for his master, but to little avail. The little canary would console him by singing to him the sweetest songs she knew.
One day, returning from the forest, the dog threw himself by the birdcage, panting histrionically.
"Little dog, why do you pant so?" The canary twittered.
"I have been running, dear canary," The dog answered between pants. "There were rabbits today, and they ran like the wind- I had to run faster than the wind to catch them. But oh, all I could get were two skinny little ones, hardly enough to fill myself up. That was all master and I caught today- he is cleaning them now to sell at the village, but I doubt very much anyone would want them; they had no flesh to their bones."
The little canary felt sorry for the worn out dog, and began to sing a sweet song about the cool spring winds, of soft green grass, and of happy baby rabbits frolicking amongst the daffodils. Whereby the rabbits hiding in their burrows under the forest floor pricked up their ears, entranced by the lovely tune. They hopped to the cottage, eager to hear more of the song. By the time the dog was upon them, only a few managed to escape.
When master came in to fetch his hat, he was overjoyed to see some six fat rabbits lying by the dog's feet.
"You wonderful creature!" He cried to the dog. "You have brought the bread to our table tonight! I shall sell these magnificent rabbits at the market right away, and you shall have the largest bone the butcher has!" With that he picked up the rabbits, cleaned them, and went off to the market to sell them.
The next day, after the morning hunt, the dog flopped down in the cottage, too exhausted was he to even say a word. The little canary chirped out to him, head cocked to one side.
"Little dog, little dog, what is the matter now?" She chirruped.
"Dear canary, I am so tired today I feel as if my feet may fall off," The dog moaned. "I chased after a young deer today, so fast was it it took all I could master to snap at its heels. But no luck, for it kicked me hard and ran into the darkness. See, I am bruised all over, and poor master has nothing but a small partridge to sell at the market today." Tears ran down the little dog's nose, and the canary felt sorry for him. She started a new song, a song about secret glens in the heart of the forest, where the sunlight streamed down in golden shafts, and dainty fawns nibbled the sweet grass beneath their china hooves. And from these deep glens, out came a herd of deer, all making their way to the source of the sweet song, so close that they came almost to the steps of the cottage. The dog flew out at them as they scattered, and killed a fine young fawn. When master came to the cottage, he found the dog sitting by the fresh catch.
"You've done it again, you fine fellow!" He cried, patting the dog on the head. "This time you shall have two bones, both with the meat still on them. You have done great justice to me, and I am forever in your debt."
This went continued on, and everyone was happy. But soon, more animals came out of the forest to listen to the canary's songs. A black Raven perched at the windowsill, an emerald green Snake slithered and curled around the drainpipe, two copper-colored Frogs crawled out and sat in the grass, a silver Drake sat by Raven, and a Fox with a coat of russet and snout of soot, put his front paws up onto the sill and put his head into the window. These animals, however, were not at all entranced by the canary's songs. They laughed and mocked her.
"Travels? Pah!" Raven cawed. "This stupid yellow thing has seen nothing! Listen to me, dog, I have travelled further than any dirty Gypsy could crawl in a caravan! I have flown over far and distant lands! I could tell you all about the barren deserts with sun-baked sand, sparkling turquoise waters of the Mediterranean, cool green rice fields and exotic towns of the Orient! But no, you must insist on listening to this little caged ball of wet feathers!"
"People? Lies, all liess," Snake hissed. " What commoners this little bird singss of! Dog, lissten to me, and lissten well. My forefather was the very sserpent that led the pitiful humans to their sssinss. My brotherss guard templess around the world, protecting treasure you can't even began to imagine. My sisterss curl at the feet of dancing women, at the heelss of ssultanss, just as you stand by your dear masster. If there iss someone that could tell you of kingss and bloodthirsty rulerss, it would be me! Lissten no more to the tales of thiss silly bird, and take heed of mine."
"Ah, each of us have far better tales to tell than this boring little bird," Fox yawned, showing off two rows of sharp white teeth. "Come with us, dog; we shall take you in hand, you shall know about the Wide World from us- and nothing but meaningless fragments of dreams if you stay with this pathetic canary."
Impressed by the words of the animals, the dog followed them. Days passed as he listened to their tales of the Wide World. Drake told him of the long journey South during the winter, where the faraway lands were warm and moist and insects were abundant. The copper frogs croaked of a secret pool in the heart of a great jungle far in the tropics, where the Frog King lived and saw the future with his great amber eyes. Fox sat by him and told him of large cities teeming with People- "the right sort of people you'd want to meet- not the common kind," he declared, and how they feasted on roast oxen and broiled bear and drank wine out of gold goblets and danced the night away. All this and more the little grey dog drank in, sucked deeper and deeper into the tales, his mind being fed with new and exciting thoughts.
By and by the dog deigned to return to his home. The canary had been waiting patiently for him all the while, its lovely feathers ruffled and expectant.
"Little dog, little dog!" She twittered merrily, glad to see her friend once more. "Come over here and let me sing you my sweetest song!"
But the dog shook its head.
"No, not anymore, little bird," He said. "For what good have you been to me? All you have done is sing the same songs over and over. What good is it for me to listen to the songs of a bird- a bird whose feathers the sun does not glitter upon? You have not flown as far as Raven, neither are you as wise as the Frog King and the Frogs, nor have you the cunning of Fox. No, you are no good to me, and I will have nothing to do with you anymore- I have already wasted enough time already." With that, the little grey dog turned away and went back to his new friends- his true friends- who were waiting for him outside.
From behind the little cage the canary watched as the dog barked merrily with his new friends. They gambolled and played together, out under the sun, the moon and the stars. Tiny tears dropped down her little yellow beak, but not one soul saw. Her little heart throbbed and ached under her golden breast, and she broke into a sorrowful song of love and heartbreak, of pain and confusion, of sacrifices and clipped wings- wings that would never take flight. And all the while tears leaked out of her eyes.
The next morning master came into the cottage after his hunt and came upon the little canary lying down at the bottom of the cage. She was cold and hard, her once-bright eyes filmed with dull blindness.
"What a pity!" He said to himself. "It was such a pretty thing- and it sang so sweetly too. Though I do believe its songs held no significance whatsoever. Whatever it sang, I'm sure it couldn't have brought any bread for the table. Ah well, it didn't do good for anybody anyway, despite being such a pretty little bird." That said he tossed the lifeless corpse out, put away the cage, and took his game out to the village market to sell.
