And I, a materialist who does not believe in the starry heaven promised to a human being, for this dog and for every dog I believe in heaven, yes, I believe in a heaven that I will never enter, but he waits for me wagging his big fan of a tail so I, soon to arrive, will feel welcomed.
Pablo Neruda (1904 - 1973)
Source: Winter Garden (A Kagean Book) (Spanish Edition), Pages: 61
No, my dog used to watch me giving me the attention I need, yet only the attention necessary to let a vain person know that he being a dog, with those eyes, more pure than mine, was wasting time, but he watched with a look that reserved for me every bit of sweetness...
Pablo Neruda (1904 - 1973)
Source: Winter Garden (A Kagean Book) (Spanish Edition), Pages: 63
The conclusion I have reached is that, above all, dogs are witnesses. They are allowed access to our most private moments. They are there when we think we are alone. Think of what they could tell us. They sit on the laps of presidents. They see acts of love and violence, quarrels and feuds, and the secret play of children. If they could tell us everything they have seen, all of the gaps of our lives would stitch themselves together.