A faithful Golden will play with you
And laugh with you — or cry.
He’ll gladly starve to stay with you
Nor ever reason why.

And when you’re feeling out of sorts
Somehow he’ll understand.
He’ll watch you with his shining eyes
And try to lick your hand.

His blind, implicit faith in you
Is matched by his great love.
The kind that all of us should have
In the Master, up above.

When everything is said and done
I guess this isn’t odd.
For when you spell “dog” backwards
You get the name of G-d.