Treat me kindly, my Beloved Master, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.
Do no break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand between blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me things you would have me know.
Speak to me often, for your voice is the world's sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footsteps fall upon my waiting ears.
When it is cold and wet, please take me inside, for I am no longer used to the bitter elements and I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Though you had no home, I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest on the softest pillow in the warmest home.
Keep my pan filled with fresh water for although I should not reproach you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food, that I may stand well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing, and able to protect you with my life, should your life be in danger.
Then, my Beloved Master, should the Great Master seek to deprive me of my health and spirit, do not turn me away. Rather, hold me gently in your arms as merciful sleep is administered, and I will leave you knowing with the last breath I draw, my fate was ever safest in your hands.
Author Unknown
Reprinted from Gun Dogs by John R. Falk