The Wise Monkey and the Boar

The Wise Monkey and the Boar

Long ago, in a Japanese province, there lived a man who traveled from town to town with a trained monkey. Whenever a crowd gathered in a square, the man spread a small mat, clapped his hands, and the monkey bowed, stepped over a stick, twirled a tiny umbrella, and pretended to be a dignified gentleman hurrying to an important meeting. Children laughed. Adults tossed coins. In this way, the man and the monkey earned their living for many years. But time passed. The monkey grew old. It was harder for her to jump high, she sometimes mixed up the tricks, and she tired quickly after a long road. One evening the man came home looking gloomy. “This cannot go on,” he told his wife. “Today she forgot half the performance again. Tomorrow I will call the butcher and sell the monkey. He can take her away, and I will find a younger one.” His wife was shocked. “But she has worked beside you for so many years. Could she not simply stay at home? She has earned rest.” “I cannot feed someone who no longer brings money,” the man said angrily. Behind a thin partition, the monkey heard everything. She sat quietly in a corner and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Do all those years mean nothing?” she wondered. “I traveled with him in heat and rain. I performed even when I was tired. And now I will be handed to a stranger, with no one knowing what will happen to me.” But the monkey did not stay sad for long. She remembered that an old wild boar lived in the nearby forest. All the animals said, “He is very strong, but his mind is stronger still.” That night, the monkey quietly opened the latch and ran into the forest. The boar was settling down beneath a great cedar when he heard a rustle. “Who is there?” “It is I. Forgive me for coming so late, Mr. Boar. I badly need advice.” She told him everything she had heard at home. The boar was silent for a long time. “Your owner has forgotten one simple thing,” he said at last. “An old friend may no longer jump as high, but she knows what a young one has not had time to learn.” “But how can I show him that?” The boar scratched his side against the tree bark. “Your owner has a little son, does he not?” “Yes. He has only just begun to walk.” “Then tomorrow morning I will help you show that you are useful for more than performances. But listen closely: the child must not be harmed, not even for a moment.” He bent down and whispered his plan. The next morning, the man’s wife opened the door to sweep the porch. Her small son sat nearby on a soft mat, playing with a wooden bell. The monkey waited close by. And behind the bamboo fence, the boar hid. When the mother turned away for a few moments to get a bucket, the boar carefully slipped his snout through the gate, caught the edge of the mat, and pulled it toward the garden path. The child laughed. To him, it felt like a strange little ride. But when the mother saw the mat moving toward the gate, she was frightened. “My son!” she cried. At that moment, the monkey sprang forward. She jumped over a low bench, grabbed the edge of the mat, and pulled it back. The boar let go at once, as they had agreed, and disappeared behind the fence. The monkey rolled the mat safely to the mother’s feet, then sat beside the child as though guarding him. The owner came running out. “What happened?” “A boar was at the gate!” said his wife, holding their son close. “And the monkey rushed to him first and brought the child back.” The man looked at the old monkey. She sat silently, breathing hard after her run. For the first time in a long while, he noticed not how high she could jump, but how many years this small animal had lived beside his family. Just then, the butcher arrived at the gate. “You called for me?” “I did,” said the man, turning red. “But I have changed my mind. The monkey stays here.” The butcher shrugged and went on his way. The wife set a bowl of rice and slices of sweet apple before the monkey. “From now on, no more performances by force,” she said. “She has worked enough.” The man did not disagree. That evening, the monkey ran to the forest to thank the boar. “Your plan worked!” she said happily. “They are keeping me at home. Now I can rest.” The boar gave a contented grunt. “Good. But remember: the best outcome would have been for your owner to remember gratitude without needing any plan at all.” “That is true,” said the monkey. “Still, today he understood something.” From then on, the old monkey no longer went from fair to fair. She lived by the house, warmed herself in the sun, helped the wife find lost little things, and sometimes entertained the little boy with simple tricks—but only when she wished to. The man started a different kind of work, one in which no one had to dance when they were tired. As for the boar, he sometimes came in the evening to the edge of the garden. The monkey brought him an apple or a handful of acorns, and the two old friends sat near one another, listening to the bamboo rustle. The boy grew up and often asked, “Why is our monkey so special?” His mother answered, “Because she has been part of our family for many years.” And his father always added, “And because one morning she reminded me of something important.” “What was that?” “Never value a friend only while they are useful to you.” The monkey, hearing this, gave a quiet little snort and closed her eyes. Perhaps she did not understand every word. Or perhaps she understood better than anyone.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨