THE BEST FRIEND

If I was sad, then he had grief, as well—
Seeking my hands with soft insistent paw,
Searching my face with anxious eyes that saw
More than my halting, human speech could tell;

Eyes wide with wisdom, fine, compassionate—
Dear, loyal one, that knew not wrong nor hate.
If I made merry—then how he would strive
To show his joy; “Good master, let’s to play,

The world is ours,” that gladsome bark would say;
“Just yours and mine—’tis fun to be alive!”
Our world … four walls above the city’s din,
My crutch the bar that ever held us in.

Whate’er my mood—the fretful word, or sweet,
The swift command, the wheedling undertone,
His faith was fixed, his love was mine, alone,
His heaven was here at my slow crippled feet:

Oh, friend thrice-lost; oh, fond heart unassailed,
Ye taught me trust when man’s dull logic failed.

Meribah Abbott.
As published in “The Dog’s Book of Verse” Collected by J. Earl Clauson
A Public Domain Work.