Old Sultan

On a prosperous farm at the edge of a great forest lived a shepherd with his family, their flock of sheep, and their faithful dog, Sultan. For many years, Sultan had guarded the farm and the flocks with unwavering dedication. He had chased away wolves and foxes, barked at approaching strangers, and shepherded wandering lambs back to safety.

But Sultan was growing old. His muzzle had turned gray, his legs had become stiff, and his bark was not as intimidating as it once had been. The shepherd noticed that Sultan could no longer run as swiftly nor stay alert through the night as he had in his youth.

One evening, as the shepherd sat with his wife by the hearth, he sighed heavily. “Old Sultan has served us well,” he said, “but his useful days are over. Tomorrow I must do what needs to be done.”

“What do you mean, husband?” asked his wife, though she suspected his intentions.

“Sultan can no longer protect our sheep,” replied the shepherd. “He sleeps more than he watches, and his legs are too stiff to chase after predators. Tomorrow I shall take him into the forest and end his suffering.”

What the shepherd didn’t realize was that Sultan lay just outside the door and heard every word. The old dog’s heart filled with sorrow and fear. After years of loyal service, was this to be his reward? He could not sleep that night, wondering how he might escape such a fate.

The next morning, Sultan walked slowly into the forest, hoping to find a quiet place where he might hide. As he wandered deeper among the trees, he encountered an old adversary—a wolf he had chased away from the shepherd’s flock many times in years past.

“Well, well,” growled the wolf, “if it isn’t old Sultan. You don’t look so fierce today. Have your master’s fortunes turned, that he can no longer feed you properly?”

Sultan, too proud to show weakness even now, straightened his posture as best he could. “My master’s fortunes are fine,” he replied. “It is mine that have changed. He plans to end my life today because I am old and can no longer guard his sheep as I once did.”

The wolf’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Is that so? After all your years of loyal service?”

Sultan nodded sadly. “That is the way of the world, it seems. The young and strong are valued; the old and weak are cast aside.”

The wolf was silent for a moment, considering this. Though natural enemies, he felt a certain kinship with the aging dog. Both were hunters, both understood the harsh laws of survival, and both knew what it meant to grow old in a world that favored youth and strength.

“Perhaps,” said the wolf slowly, “we could help each other. I have a proposition that might save your life and provide me with a meal without much effort.”

Sultan eyed the wolf suspiciously. “What kind of proposition?”

“Tomorrow,” explained the wolf, “I will come to the edge of the forest near your shepherd’s house. You will be in the meadow with your master’s young child. I will rush out and seize the child—gently, of course, causing no harm—and run away with it. You will chase after me, and I will allow you to ‘rescue’ the child from my jaws. Your master will be so grateful that he will surely keep you for the rest of your natural days.”

Sultan considered the plan. It seemed risky, but what choice did he have? “Very well,” he agreed, “but you must promise not to hurt the child. Not a single scratch, or our deal is off.”

“You have my word,” said the wolf. “One predator to another.”

With their plan set, Sultan returned to the farm, making sure to stay out of his master’s sight until the next day. The shepherd, busy with his flocks, forgot about his decision regarding Sultan, and the old dog was granted a temporary reprieve.

The following afternoon, the shepherd’s wife placed their young child on a blanket in the meadow near the house while she worked in the garden. Sultan, seeing his opportunity, positioned himself near the child, pretending to doze in the warm sunlight but keeping one eye open.

Right on schedule, the wolf emerged from the forest, moving swiftly across the meadow. Before the shepherd’s wife could react, the wolf had gently picked up the child by the clothes and was running back toward the trees.

Sultan, summoning strength he hadn’t felt in years, leaped to his feet and gave chase, barking furiously. The shepherd and his wife, hearing the commotion, looked up in horror to see their child in the jaws of a wolf with their old dog in pursuit.

Just as planned, Sultan caught up to the wolf at the edge of the forest. The wolf, true to his word, allowed Sultan to grab the child’s clothing and pull the unharmed infant from his grasp. With a theatrical growl and a secret wink at Sultan, the wolf retreated into the forest.

The shepherd and his wife ran to find their child safe in Sultan’s protective custody. The old dog stood over the infant, tail wagging, as if to say, “See? I can still protect what matters most.”

“Oh, Sultan!” cried the shepherd’s wife, gathering her child in her arms. “You saved our little one from that terrible wolf!”

The shepherd knelt beside his old companion, tears in his eyes. “Forgive me, faithful friend,” he said, stroking Sultan’s gray muzzle. “I misjudged you. Age may have slowed your step, but your courage and loyalty remain strong. You shall have a place by our hearth and a full bowl for as long as you live.”

From that day forward, Sultan enjoyed a position of honor in the household. He was given the softest bed by the fire, the choicest morsels from the table, and the gentle affection of the child he had “saved.” The shepherd never again spoke of ending Sultan’s life, recognizing that wisdom and loyalty were valuable qualities regardless of age or physical strength.

As for the wolf, Sultan met him occasionally at the edge of the forest, far from the eyes of the shepherd. They would sit together in the dappled sunlight, an unlikely friendship between traditional enemies, sharing news and observations about their separate worlds.

“You could join me here on the farm,” Sultan suggested during one of their meetings. “My master might accept you if I vouched for your character.”

The wolf shook his head. “Thank you, old friend, but I belong to the forest as you belong to the farm. Each creature must follow the path nature has laid for them.”

Sultan understood. Though their friendship defied the expected order of things, they respected the boundaries that defined their separate lives.

One winter evening, as snow fell softly on the farm, Sultan laid his head on his paws for the final time, surrounded by the family he had served so faithfully. He passed peacefully from this world to the next, having lived out his days in dignity and comfort.

The wolf, learning of his friend’s passing, came to the edge of the forest that night and raised his voice in a mournful howl—a tribute to an honorable adversary who had become an unexpected ally.

And so the tale of Old Sultan was told and retold in that region, a reminder that age brings not just infirmity but also wisdom, that loyalty deserves recognition, and that sometimes, the most profound friendships emerge from the most unlikely beginnings.