H.P.W. - ca. 1916
Dog Jack has gone on the silent trail,
Wherever that may be;
But well, I know, when I whistle the call,
He will joyfully answer me.
That call will be when I, myself,
Have passed through the Gates of Gold;
He will come with a rush, and his soft brown eyes
Will glisten with love as of old.
Oh, Warden of Gates, in the far away land,
This little black dog should you see,
Throw wide your doors that this faithful friend
May enter, and wait for me.
This epitaph from a 1916 gravestone is dedicated to Monk - a darn good ranch dog - who passed away last week on the Cameron Ranch (Martinsdale, Montana) at the very old age of "really, really old."
Monk, you are missed...