Editor’s note: Try as we might, we could not find the name of this beloved story’s author. If anyone can shed light on who penned it, please share in the comments section.  – TJP

A farmer had four puppies he needed to sell, so he painted a sign and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard. As he was driving in the last nail he felt a tug on his overalls. He looked down into the eyes of a little boy.

“Mister,” the boy said, “I want to buy one of your puppies.”

Well,” said the farmer as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, “these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money.”

The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then, reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer.

“I’ve got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?”

“Sure,” said the farmer, and with that he let out a whistle. “Here, Dolly!” he called.

Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly, followed by four little balls of fur.

The little boy pressed his face against the chain-link fence. His eyes danced with delight. As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another little ball appeared, this one noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid, then, in a somewhat awkward manner, the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up.

“I want that one,” the little boy said, pointing to the runt.

The farmer knelt down at the boy’s side and said, “Son, you don’t want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs will.”

The little boy stepped back from the fence, reached down, and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg, attaching itself to a specially made shoe.

Looking back up at the farmer, he said, “You see, sir, I don’t run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands.”

With tears in his eyes, the farmer reached down and picked up the little pup. Holding it carefully, he handed it to the little boy.

“How much?” asked the boy.

“No charge,” answered the farmer. “There’s no charge for love.”