Pete bristles when the doorbell rings. Last night he didn`t act the same. Dogs have a way of knowin` things, An` when the dreaded cable came, He looked at mother an` he whined His soft, low sign of somethin` wrong, As though he knew that we should find The news that we had feared so long. He`s followed me about the place An` hasn`t left my heels to-day; He`s rubbed his nose against my face As if to kiss my grief away. There on his plate beside the door You`ll see untouched his mornin` meal. I never understood before That dogs share every hurt you feel. We`ve got the pride o` service fine As consolation for the blow; We know by many a written line He went the way he wished to go. We know that God an` Country found Our boy a servant brave an` true-- But Pete must sadly walk around An` miss the master that he knew. The mother`s bearing up as well As such a noble mother would; The hurt I feel I needn`t tell-- I guess by all it`s understood. But Pete--his dog--that used to wait Each night to hear his cheery call, An` romped about him at the gate, Has felt the blow the worst of all.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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