The best friend a man has in the world may turn against him and become
his enemy. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove
ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust
with our happiness and our good name may become traitors to their faith. The
money that a man has, he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he
needs it most. A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of
ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do
us honor 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 man can have in this selfish world, the one that never
deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous 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, 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 an 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 wings, 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 him against danger, to fight against his
enemies.
And when the last scene of all comes, and death takes his 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 the graveside will the noble dog be
found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad, but open in alert
watchfulness, faithful and true even in death.
