When Brownie Died

He was only a dog-and not a pedigreed dog, at that. Reckoned in dollars and cents, the loss occasioned by his death was inconsiderable. But he was a friendly dog, on speaking and romping terms with every child in the neighborhood, and to the tender heart of childhood his death was something akin to a calamity. At noon one day he darted in front of my car and both wheels passed over his body.

His front legs were broken, but by using his hind legs and his nose, he half dragged, half jerked his shattered frame to the parking, where he stretched out to die. School had just dismissed, and in a very short time a solemn circle of children formed about him. I shall never forget the picture; the noon-day sun shining down upon a mangled dog; the circle of sorrowing children who had romped with him but a few hours before, and who loved him as only children can love a canine friend; one of the little lads with his hat removed-an unconscious recognition of the presence of death; quivering lips and moistened eyes all about; truly, a tragedy of childhood.
 He was only a dog-but he loved the children, and his last act was to raise his head, gaze at the circle of pitying eyes, wag his tail as a token of friendship-and then the light went out. He was only a dog-but the grief of that group of children was inexpressible, and, though it was no fault of mine, I felt strangely like a criminal who had robbed childhood of one of its dearest possessions. Through her tears, my dark.eyed girl asked me to write something about "Brownie." It was my car that killed him. It shall be my pen to sing his requiem.

 No dog was he of pedigree-but when his mangled frame lay stretched beneath the noonday sun, the little children came And formed a silent circle 'round the spot where "Brownie's" breath was coming in convulsive gasps-the agony of death. And when the end approached, he raised his head from off the ground And turned a loving eye upon his playmates gathered 'round, And bade them all a mute farewell, and bravely, feebly tried to wag his friendly tail-and it was thus that "Brownie" died.

 No dog was he of pedigree-but when he lifeless lay, the silent band of children there dispersed and walked away. With bitter tears and heaving sobs, and sad, dejected air, and the glory of the noonday sun seemed clouded everywhere. And when the word went swiftly forth that "Brownie" met his end.

From blocks around the kiddies came to see their faithful friend, and gazed awhile in silent awe, and mutely turned aside to hide the covert tears that flowed the day that "Brownie" died. No dog was he of pedigree-but figures of the mart can not compute or value the affections of the heart; And some will say there's one dog less to clutter up the street, and just a dollar lopped from off the next year's tax receipt; but the loss to happy childhood, in whose heart he was enshrined ... is something that can never be computed or defined, and the measure of their grief was such that furtively, a tear that welled up from my heart the day that "Brownie" died.

No dog was he of pedigree-and theologians say the soul of him will not survive to greet the Judgment Day; But little children loved him, and his mission here on earth was to make the children happy-and he thereby proved his worth. And despite my churchly teachings, something whispers , that if children go to heaven, faithful dogs will go there too, and abiding love assures me that a soul all true and tried went to romp with heaven's children on the day that "Brownie" died!

-Phil Carspecken

Character Witness

Though man seems sunken deep in sin
And heaven far above us,
There must be good in humans yet,
Since dogs still love us!

MARIE MEDOSA.

The Little Dog Angel

High up in the courts of Heaven to-day
A little dog-angel waits;
With the other angels he will not play,
But he sits alone at the gates;
"For I know that my master will come," says he:
"And when he comes he will call for me."

He sees the spirits that pass him by
As they hasten towards the Throne.
And he watches them with a wistful eye
As he sits at the gates alone;
"But I know if I just wait patiently
That some day my master will come," says he.

And his master, far on the earth below,
As he sits in his easy chair,
Forgets sometimes, and he whistles low
For the dog that is not there;
And the little dog-angel cocks his ears,
And dreams that his master's call he hears.

And I know, where at length his master waits
Outside in the dark and cold
For the hand of Death to open the gates
That lead to those courts of gold,
The little dog-angels eager bark
Will comfort his soul in the shivering dark.

-Norah M. Holland

Little lost pup

He was lost!-not a shade of doubt of that;
For he never barked at a slinking cat,
But stood in the square where the wind blew raw
With a drooping ear and a trembling paw
 And a mournful look in his pleading eye
And a plaintive sniff at the passer-by
That begged as plain as a tongue could sue,
 "0 Mister! please may I follow you?"
A lorn wee waif of a tawny brown
Adrift in the roar of a heedless town.
 Oh, the saddest of sights in a world of sin
 Is a little lost pup with his tail tucked in!
Now he shares my board and he owns my bed,
 And he fairly shouts when he hears my tread;
 Then, if things go wrong, as they sometimes do,
 And the world is cold and I'm feeling blue,
 He asserts his right to assuage my woes
With a warm, red tongue and a nice, cold nose
 And a silky head on my arm or knee
And a paw as soft as a paw can be.
When we rove the woods for a league about
 He's as full of pranks as a school let out;
For he romps and frisks like a three months' colt,
And he runs me down like a thunderbolt.
 Oh, the blithest of sights in the world so fair
 Is a gay little pup with his tail in the air!

Arthur Guiterman

Little dog lost

Little lost dog, on the thoroughfare,
 Worried black nose and the wire-stiff hair
 Some child is missing you, some tot will care
Unhappy little lost dog!
Little lost dog, in the dusk and the rain
Some youngster calling you, calls you in vain,
 Baby nose snubbed to the windowpane
 Draggeldy little lost dog!
Little lost dog, on the avenue,
Blinded by headlights-he's searching for you,
 Searching each face, all the wild dusk through
 Whimpery little lost dog!
 Little lost dog, on the wheel-mad street,
 Hungry small dog, but too frightened to eat,
 Little wet dog, with uncertain feet
Panicky little lost dog! ...
Little limp dog, not so much for size!
 Little limp dog, with the death dim eyes
 Some tot is missing you, some baby cries. . .
 Waiting his little lost dog!

 BLANCHE DEGOOD LOFTON.

And this I ask

The "Now I lay me's" floated in
Rare eloquence, that once more sin
Be pardoned, shamed the sunset's glow.
And clouds grew thick with thanks.
 Below Earth held up hands for Heaven to still.
God leaned against His window sill
In pensive brooding, through the noise
 A sob cut clearly, then a boy's:
"If Rags should die before I wake,
I pray Thee, Lord, his soul to take."
God's hand, past priest and pedagogue,
 Reached out to heal a small boy's dog.

MAYHOWARD AUSTIN McEACHERN

Epitaph to a lap dog

Here Shock, the pride of all his kind, is laid,
Who fawn'd like man, but ne'er like man betray'd.

 -John Gay

Stray

He once had a home but he strayed away,
Perhaps he just wanted to see the town
Or maybe the folks with whom he had stayed
Didn't care anymore for a dog around;
And so little Rags was out on his own,
There was no warm bed when the night came down,
He grew lank and thin, for his only fare
Was from garbage cans in the yards downtown.

 It wasn't his fault that he had no home
But a friendly curb where he often sat
And wagged his tail to each passerby,
For a kindly word, or a little pat;
There was no one cared, so his coat was black
 With the dirt and grime of the city street
 But his pleading eyes scanned each passing face
As if there was one he had hoped to meet.

Then, came the tale of a maddened dog
 Like the witchcraft tales we have read about
And they took it up with a vow to shoot
Every little stray, if they found him out;
And poor little Rags went his usual way,
With no other sin on his doggie head
Than being turned out by the folks he loved,
And a hungry stomach that cried for bread.

So he whines in pain-and a pistol cracked
In the hand of one he had thought a friend,
And little black Rags was a stray no more
For there are no strays just Around the Bend. . .
Just a small thin heap of quivering flesh
 A touch of red on the April sod
 Homeless and hungry, but true to the End,
And the soul of Rags had gone back to God.

-Marty Hale

I saw this today

He stood-anxious nose pressed against the frosted glass of the closed door.
His master was inside there somewhere and though the biting wind pierced his shaggy coat he would not seek shelter.
Master might emerge at any minute and to miss him would be tragedy too grim to conceive.
A hopeful wagging of downcast tail greeted each swing of the door.
Time sped by and anxiety overcoming caution, he paced a few troubled steps to a window which might afford a better view.
Evidently no hope there.

 Returning to the door he took up his solitary watch once more, seemingly oblivious to the icy gale.
When anxiety had become almost too hard to bear, a shabby form pushed the swinging door.
 Joy of joys, it was his master! Tail erect, he followed gaily down the snowy street, caressing with adoring tongue the mittened hand extended for his satisfaction.
Happy, proud, undemanding friend.
Would that human kind could equal you!

-Margaret Nickerson Martin

A boy speaks

Dear God: He was an old-man dog. . . .
 Here is his bowl and his pillow.
We buried him this morning
 Beneath the garden willow. . . .
If terriers go to Heaven
It's raining so tonight,
 Please whistle, God, and pet him
 Until he seems all right. . . .
 God, if he will not eat,
But maybe just stands still
Please pick him up a little
 And talk to him until
 He wags his tail against you,
 Then let him lick your chin.
He was my dog. . . (Old Buddy)
 Please, God. . . please take him in.

 -Queene B. Lister

TO A DOG

If there is no God for thee

Then there is no God for me

If He sees not when you share

 With the poor your frugal fare,

 Does not see you at a grave,

Every instinct bred to save;

As if you were the only one 

Believing in a resurrection;

When you wait, as lovers do, 

Watching till your friend comes true;

Does not reverence when you take

 Angry words for love's sweet sake;

If his eye does not approve

All your faith and pain and love;

If the heart of justice fail 

And is for you of no avail;

If there is no heaven for thee

 Then there is no heaven for me.

II

If the Lord they tell us of

Died for men yet loves not love,

If from out His Paradise

He shuts the innocent and wise,

The gay, obedient, simple, good, 

The docile ones, of friendly mood,

Those who die to save a friend 

Heavenly faithful to the end;

If there is no cross for thee. 

Then there is no cross for me.

III

If its boughs reach not so high

That they bowed star and sky,

If its roots are not so sound

That they cleave the heavy ground,

If it thrills not through all Nature

 Plunged through every living creature,

If its leaves do not enmesh

 Every bit of groaning flesh,

If it strike no mighty spur

Through fang and claw and tooth and fur

Piercing tree and earth and stone,

 Then indeed I stand alone.

Nothing less than this can save

 Me, from out my fleshly grave,

Me, in whom such jungles are 

Where the beasts go out to war.

If there is no God for thee

 Then there is no God for me.

A TRIBUTE TO THE DOG

One of the most beautiful tributes ever paid a dumb animal came from the lips of the late Senator George Graham Vest.  The occasion was a trial over' the killing of a dog, which was held in a Missouri town when he was a young  lawyer.     

      

Senator Vest appeared for the plaintiff, while Senator Francis M. Cockrell, then a  country practitioner, represented the defendant.       

Young Vest took no interest in the testimony and made no notes, but at the close of the case arose, and in a soft voice, made the following address:

 "Gentlemen of the Jury-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 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."

When he concluded his remarks there were but few dry eyes in the audience. The case was submitted without fur­ther argument, and the jury promptly returned a verdict for the plaintiff.