Our dog Sox died on Monday. You see her above dressed in her Halloween costume. Her death was an incredibly painful experience. 13 years ago my sister Sherry had promised Josiah that as soon as we moved back to South Florida from my studies in Chicago she would get him a dog (we didn’t have any pets in Chicago). In the summer of 1997, as soon as we moved home, my sister (who always thinks of others instead of herself and is one of the kindest people I know) took Josiah to the pound to pick out his dog. He brought home a small black puppy that eventually turned into a large black dog with white feet for socks.
To say that she was loyal and kind is an understatement. Sox always wanted to be near us and I am convinced that she would have done anything in the world for any member of the family. As time went on she began to grow grey in the face and slower to move. Finally, after thirteen years, she had given all that she could, and laid down to die.
To those of you who have never loved a dog, I pity you. Though the pain of losing one is terrible, the kindness and grace that can be learned from a good one is inestimable. Sox was a good one.
George Graham Vest was a member of the Confederate Congress and served as a senator from Missouri from 1879 to 1903. He is best remembered for a speech he made as a young lawyer, representing a man who was suing his neighbor for killing his dog. It is a fitting tribute to all good dogs everywhere, but especially to Sox.
Gentlemen of the Jury: The best friend a man has in the world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man has, he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it most. A man’s reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us, may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads.
The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous is his dog. A man’s dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master’s side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer. He will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounters with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings, and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens.
If fortune drives the master forth, an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him, to guard him against danger, to fight against his enemies. And when the last scene of all comes, and death takes his master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by the graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad, but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even in death.