It happened once upon a time that Mullah Nasruddin was travelling through the countryside, riding on his donkey, when he came in sight of an orchard. Thinking that the day was becoming warm, and that it would be prudent – not to say a sign of wisdom – to rest for a while in the shade of a fruit-laden tree, he stopped, climbed out of the saddle, and tethered the donkey in a patch of grass beside the road. He then took off his coat, and laid it across the back of the donkey, saying, “Look after this for me. Do you hear? I am trusting you to take care of my coat.”

Sometime later, he returned from the orchard, and found that although the donkey was there, placidly cropping the grass, the coat was gone. Someone, it appeared, had taken it.

“Miserable beast,” Nasruddin shouted at the donkey. “How could you allow someone to steal my coat? But look, I’ll give you a taste of the same medicine,” he said, and took the saddle off the animal. “Now you know how it feels to have your saddle stolen!”