High on a mountain lived a mighty lion in a great cave. All the animals feared him — yet one tiny creature troubled his sleep. A mouse lived in a hole in that cave, and every time the lion slept, it crept out and nibbled the tips of his splendid mane. The lion would wake in a rage, but the mouse would already be safe in a hole far too small for a lion's paw.
“A great enemy is met with strength,” thought the lion, “but a tiny enemy must be met with his own match. I need help.” So he went down to the village and respectfully invited a cat named Dadhikarna to live in his cave. He fed the cat rich milk and tender meat, and gave him a place of honour beside his own pillow.
From the day the cat arrived, the mouse caught his scent and did not dare put out even its nose. The lion slept in deep peace, his mane untouched, and Dadhikarna grew plump and glossy. Indeed, whenever the lion heard the mouse squeaking inside its hole, he rewarded the cat with an extra dish — for every squeak reminded him why the cat was precious.
But one day the mouse, grown desperate with hunger, crept out of its hole. In one soft bound Dadhikarna caught it, and that was the end of the mouse. The cat proudly showed his work to the lion — and the lion only yawned. The squeaking was gone, the mane was safe, and of what use is a mouse-catcher where there is no mouse? The dishes of milk stopped coming, the place of honour was forgotten, and the once-plump Dadhikarna grew thin and unwanted, learning too late a hard truth of the world.
For the selfish value a helper only as long as they need him — and the shortsighted helper who destroys the very reason he is needed destroys his own place along with it.