By Beth Norman Harris

Treat me kindly, my beloved master, for no heart in all the world is more

grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand

between the blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly

teach me the things you would have me do.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world's sweetest music,

as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your

footsteps falls upon my waiting ear.

When it is cold and wet, please take me inside, for I am now a

domesticated animal, no longer used to bitter elements.

And I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your

feet beside the hearth.

Though had you no home, I would rather follow you through ice and

snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in all

the land, for you are my god and I am your devoted worshiper.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach

you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst.

Feed me clean food, that I may stay well, to romp and play and do

your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able

to protect you with my life should your life be in danger.

And, beloved master, should the great Master see fit to deprive me of

my health or sight, do not turn me away from you.

Rather hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands grant me the

merciful boon of eternal rest -- and I will leave you knowing with the

last breath I drew, my fate was ever safest in your hands.