You can't tell me God would have Heaven

So a man couldn't mix with his friends -

That we are doomed to meet disappointment

When we come to the place the trail ends.

That would be a low-grade sort of Heaven,

And I'd never regret a damned sin

If I rush up to the gates white and pearly,

And they don't let my malemute in.

For I know it would never be homelike,

No matter how golden the strand,

If I lose out that pal-loving feeling

Of a malemute's nose on my hand.

~ Pat O'Cotter ~

   The Best Loved Poems of the American People

Copyright 1936 by Doubleday