For if the dog be well remembered,
if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life,
eyes kindling, laughing, begging,
it matters not where the dog sleeps.
On a hill where the wind is un-rebuked and the trees are roaring,
or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood,
or somewhere in the flatness of a land where most exhilarating cattle graze.
It is one to the dog, and all one to you,
and nothing is gained and nothing is lost, if memory lives.
But there is one best place to bury a dog.
If you bury him in this spot he will come to you when you call --
come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death,
and down the well remembered path to your side again.
And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they shall not growl at him
nor resent him coming, for he belongs there.
People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall,
who hear no whimper, people who may never really have had a dog.
Smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them.
The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master!

Ben Hur Lampman
11 September 1925
Portland Oregonian
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