When my Grandpa McCarthy passed away, we found a little folded piece of paper in his wallet with a poem printed on it. My grandmother knew I loved poetry, so she gave me the paper.
The poem is meaningful to me on so many levels. It is beautifully written, and its message is thought-provoking. I can’t help but to ponder the scene when reading it. Mostly, the poem reminds me of my grandparents and their love for their German Shepherds.
Here is that special little poem.
The Little Black Dog
I wonder if Christ had a little black dog,
All curly and wooly like mine
With two silky ears and a nose round and wet,
And two eyes, brown and tender, that shine.
I’m sure if He had, that little black dog
Knew right from the start He was God,
That he needed no proof that Christ was divine
But just worshipped the ground that He trod.
I’m afraid that He hadn’t because I have read
How He prayed in the garden alone;
For all of His friends and disciples had fled –
Even Peter, the one called a stone.
And oh, I am sure that little black dog,
With a heart so tender and warm,
Would never have left Him to suffer alone,
But creeping right under His arm,
Would have licked those dear fingers, in agony clasped;
And counting all favors but loss,
When they took Him away would have trotted behind
And followed Him quite to the Cross.
– –Elizabeth Gardner Reynolds–
*I’m currently working on a couple of books on poetry. One should be out within about a year.