The
one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have
in this selfish world, the one that never deserts
him, the one that never proves ungrateful or
treacherous, is man's dog.
A
man's dog stands by him in prosperity and in
poverty. In health and in sickness. He will sleep
on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and
the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near
his master's side.
He
will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he
will lick the wounds and sores that come in
encounter with the roughness of the world. He
guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were
a prince.
When
all other friends desert, he remains. When riches
take wing and reputation falls to pieces, he is as
constant in his love as the sun in its journey
through the heavens.
If
fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the
world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog
asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying
him to guard against danger, to fight against his
enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and
death takes the master in its embrace and his body
is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all
other friends pursue their way, there by his
graveside will the noble dog be found, his head
between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert
watchfulness, faithful and true even to
death."
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