The Little White Dog - in memory of mum

I have been having a clean out of all my book shelves - it is time, and in doing so, came across an old exercise book of mine, dated 1960 - this was the year I arrived back in Australia. Mum, being always economical, having grown up in the depression years, kept the book as it had blank pages left in it. Written in her perfect script hand writing was the following poem, and I am sharing it in memory of her - the poem truly touched my heart, especially as I have a little white dog.

THE LITTLE WHITE DOG

I wonder if Christ had a little white dog,

All curly and woolly like mine,

With two silky ears, and a nose round and wet,

And two eyes so tender that shine.

I’m sure if He had, that little white dog

Knew right from the first He was God

And needed no proof that Christ was divine,

But just worshipped the ground that He trod.

I’m afraid that He hadn’t, because I have read

How He prayed in the garden alone,

For all His friends and disciples had left Him and fled,

Even Peter the one called a stone.

And oh I am sure that, that little white dog,

With a heart so tender and warm

Would never have left Him, to suffer alone,

But creeping right under His arm,

Would have licked those dear fingers, in agony clasped,

And counting all favours but loss

When they took Him away, would have trotted behind,

And followed him right to the cross.