A poetic dialogue between God and dog
In cosy, canine Canaan by Saint Bernard’s pearly gate
Our death-dealt dog, forlorn and lost, looks in a sorry state,
For God is looking down on him with eyes perturbed and pale.
‘What did you with your life?’ He asks. Says dog, ‘I wagged my tail.’
‘A sorry tale indeed,’ sighs God, ‘which puts me on the spot.
You tried to win much praise, I know, but did not Winalot.
Before I let you through these gates to sniff the heavenly trail
Say what you’d bring to make Heaven sing.’ Says dog, ‘My wagging tail.’
‘But what of sin,’ inquires God, ‘those sins you left behind:
Un-poop-scooped piles for miles and miles which only feet could find;
Pee-rusted lampposts, postman’s scars, do these not make you wail?’
No answer from the dog there comes. He simply wags his tail.
‘Just think!’ begs God. ‘What’s “think”?’ thinks dog, for thinking’s not his strength.
‘To let you into Heaven,’ says God, ‘I’d go to any length.’
‘To any length?’ asks dog. ‘Then why use words to no avail
When all heaven needs, as Heaven knows well, is just a wagging tail?’
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