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A Tribute To The Dog
The best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his enemy. Those who are nearest and dearest to us may become traitors to their faith. The people, who are prone to fall on their knees when success is with us, may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads.
The one absolutely unselfish friend that a man can have in the selfish world is his 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 when 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 not food to offer, he will lick the wounds that come in encounters with the world.
He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. And when 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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