Some treasures aren’t bought.
They’re earned with a brave little heart.
Grandpa’s little shop had exactly one rule that puzzled everyone.
Nothing inside was priceless.
Except one thing.
It sat quietly on the corner of the lowest shelf.
A tiny stuffed puppy.
Soft white fur.
Round black eyes.
A cheerful red collar.
Beside it stood a wooden sign.
NOT FOR SALE.
Visitors asked every Saturday.
“Who owns the puppy?”
Grandpa always smiled.
“Nobody.”
“So why can’t we buy it?”
“Because it’s waiting.”
Nobody understood what that meant.
The puppy appeared perfectly content to continue waiting.
One rainy afternoon a little orphan boy wandered into the shop.
His shoes had known better years.
His jacket had known better owners.
He studied every shelf carefully.
Candy.
Marbles.
Wooden tops.
Chocolate.
None of them held his attention for very long.
Then he noticed the puppy.
He stopped walking.
Not dramatically.
Simply completely.
Grandpa noticed.
He had become rather good at recognizing that particular silence.
The boy quietly read the little sign.
NOT FOR SALE.
His shoulders lowered just a little.
“I understand,” he whispered.
He turned to leave.
Grandpa cleared his throat.
“You didn’t read the second sign.”
The boy looked again.
Beneath the puppy was another little card.
Ask Grandpa for today’s riddle.
The boy looked up.
“There is a riddle?”
Grandpa nodded very seriously.
“The puppy has insisted upon it.”
The boy accepted this explanation without difficulty.
Some things sounded perfectly reasonable inside Grandpa’s shop.
Grandpa leaned forward.
“Tell me…
What becomes larger…
the more of it you give away?”
The little shop became wonderfully quiet.
Even the old clock seemed curious.
The boy looked at the puppy.
Then at Grandpa.
Then at the jars of candy.
He thought for a very long time.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
Grandpa smiled.
“That’s allowed.”
The boy continued thinking anyway.
Minutes wandered past.
Finally he looked toward the window.
Outside, two children shared one umbrella.
Neither looked especially dry.
Both looked remarkably happy.
The boy smiled.
“I think…”
He paused.
“It might be kindness.”
Grandpa didn’t answer.
Instead he reached beneath the counter.
He lifted the little puppy into his hands.
Then he carefully placed it into the boy’s arms.
The boy blinked.
“Was I right?”
Grandpa chuckled.
“Close enough.”
The boy hugged the puppy.
“I thought riddles had only one answer.”
Grandpa slowly shook his head.
“Good ones rarely do.”
The little boy looked at the puppy’s smiling face.
“What was your answer?”
Grandpa rested his chin on one hand.
“Friendship.”
The boy looked down at the puppy again.
Then he laughed.
“I think…”
“…the puppy would have accepted either.”
Grandpa nodded.
“So would I.”
As the little boy skipped happily toward the door, the puppy’s corner on the shelf became empty for the very first time.
The customers glanced at the vacant space.
“Will you make another one?” someone asked.
Grandpa smiled as he reached beneath the counter and quietly placed another little stuffed puppy on the shelf.
Beside it, he set a fresh wooden sign.
NOT FOR SALE.
Some shelves, it seemed, were never meant to stay full.
They were simply waiting for the next right answer.
Livora Gracely 
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