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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 when success is with
us, may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure
settles its cloud upon our head.
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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 poverty, in health
and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wint'ry
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 encounters 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 his 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 watchful-ness, faithful and true
even in death.