[AnAmericanMother]

No way Kipling wrote that. An American wrote it (because of the vocabulary - Kipling was very English English and found American English interesting but very foreign), and somebody much more recent than Kipling as well. There are hiccups in the meter that Kipling never would have made either - he was a master craftsman and very meticulous.

With all that said, here is a poem about losing a dog that Kipling did write:

The Power of the Dog

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passsion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart to a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find--it's your own affair--
But ... you've given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-term loan is as bad as a long--
So why in--Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

[kaylar]

I agree : That was written 1940-1960 by an American writer, or maybe Canadian, definitely not Kipling. I actually got interested enough to google it, and it looks like the poem was listed as "author unknown" until some site ASSumed it was Kipling, and since then that attribution has been copied and recopied. Finally I located this:

Poem credited to a Jane Sears, copyrighted to a Concordia, Missouri veterinary clinic

If this is the same Jane L Sears, it looks like she specialized in early 1960s pulp romance novels starring nurses.

This is my favorite dog poem:

THE CURATE THINKS YOU HAVE NO SOUL

The curate thinks you have no soul;
I know that he has none. But you,
Dear friend, whose solemn self-control,
In our foursquare familiar pew,
Was pattern to my youth -- whose bark
Called me in summer dawns to rove --
Have you gone down into the dark
Where none is welcome -- none may love?
I will not think those good brown eyes

Have spent their life of truth so soon;
But in some canine paradise
Your wraith, I know, rebukes the moon,
And quarters every plain and hill,
Seeking his master... As for me,
This prayer at least the gods fulfill;
That when I pass the flood and see
Old Charon by the Stygian coast
Take toll of all the shades who land,
Your little, faithful, barking ghost
May leap to lick my phantom hand.

-- St.John Lucas