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The Power of the Dog

Discussion in 'Woof Memorial Critter's Corner' started by I'M Glockamolie, May 27, 2007.

  1. I'M Glockamolie

    I'M Glockamolie

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    I have only posted here (this section, anyway) a time or two, yet I felt compelled to share this. I searched, and didn't find reference to it. It's Rudyard Kipling.

    The Power of the Dog

    There is sorrow enough in the natural way
    From men and women to fill our day;
    And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
    Why do we always arrange for more?
    Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
    Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

    Buy a pup and your money will buy
    Love unflinching that cannot lie --
    Perfect passion and worship fed
    By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
    Nevertheless it is hardly fair
    To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

    When the fourteen years which Nature permits
    Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
    And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
    To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
    Then you will find -- it's your own affair --
    But . . . you've given your heart to a dog to tear.

    When the body that lived at your single will,
    With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
    When the spirit hat answered your every mood
    Is gone -- wherever it goes -- for good,
    You will discover how much you care,
    And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

    We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
    When it comes to burying Christian clay.
    Our loves are not given, but only lent,
    At compound interest of cent per cent.
    Though it is not always the case, I believe,
    That the longer we've kept'em, the more do we grieve;

    For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
    A short-time loan is as bad as a long --
    So why in -- Heaven (before we are there)
    Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
     
  2. Jake514

    Jake514

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  3. I'M Glockamolie

    I'M Glockamolie

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    I don't think it was a scolding from Kipling, but more of a "why do we do this?" kind of thing. Notice he says "Though it is not always the case, I believe,
    That the longer we've kept'em, the more do we grieve;
    . He was one of us, not on the outside looking at us dog owners as gluttons for punishment.
     
  4. I'M Glockamolie

    I'M Glockamolie

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    And if Kipling didn't get you with that one, how about this?

    A Dog for Jesus

    I wish someone had given Jesus a dog
    As loyal and loving as mine
    To sleep by his manger and gaze in His eyes
    And adore Him for being divine.

    As our Lord grew to manhood, his faithful dog
    Would have followed Him all through the day
    While He preached to the crowds and made the sick well
    And knelt in the garden to pray.

    It is sad to remember that Christ went away
    To face death alone and apart
    With no tender dog following close behind
    To comfort its Master's heart.

    And when Jesus rose on that Easter morn
    How happy He would have been
    As his dog kissed His hands and barked its delight
    For the One who died for all men.

    Well, the Lord has a dog now, I just sent him mine
    The old pal so dear to me
    And I smile through my tears on this first day alone
    Knowing they're in eternity.
     
  5. Jake514

    Jake514

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    And you may remember this one as well (Yes, Jimmy Stewart the actor):

    "Beau"
    by Jimmy Stewart

    He never came to me when I would call
    Unless I had a tennis ball,
    Or he felt like it,
    But mostly he didn't come at all.

    When he was young
    He never learned to heel
    Or sit or stay,
    He did things his way.

    Discipline was not his bag
    But when you were with him things sure didn't drag.
    He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
    And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me.

    He bit lots of folks from day to day,
    The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
    The gas man wouldn't read our meter,
    He said we owned a real man-eater.

    He set the house on fire
    But the story's long to tell.
    Suffice it to say that he survived
    And the house survived as well.

    On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
    He was always first out the door.
    The Old One and I brought up the rear
    Because our bones were sore.

    He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
    What a beautiful pair they were!
    And if it was still light and the tourists were out,
    They created a bit of a stir.

    But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
    And with a frown on his face look around.
    It was just to make sure that the Old One was there
    And would follow him where he was bound.

    We are early-to-bedders at our house--
    I guess I'm the first to retire.
    And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me
    And get up from his place by the fire.

    He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,
    And I'd give him one for a while.
    He would push it under the bed with his nose
    And I'd fish it out with a smile.

    And before very long
    He'd tire of the ball
    And be asleep in his corner
    In no time at all.

    And there were nights when I'd feel him
    Climb upon our bed
    And lie between us,
    And I'd pat his head.

    And there were nights when I'd feel this stare
    And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there
    And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
    And sometimes I'd feel him sigh
    and I think I know the reason why.

    He would wake up at night
    And he would have this fear
    Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
    And he'd be glad to have me near.

    And now he's dead.
    And there are nights when I think I feel him
    Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
    And I pat his head.

    And there are nights when I think
    I feel that stare
    And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair,
    But he's not there.

    Oh, how I wish that wasn't so,
    I'll always love a dog named Beau.
     
  6. I'M Glockamolie

    I'M Glockamolie

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    I haven't seen that in a long time. Thank you!