When I see on occasion how deeply a man can feel about his pet, I gain new hope for the human race. I visited a friend of mine a few nights ago who is one of the hardest man I have ever known. He is a violent man who has been in and out of trouble all his life. He has no family and few friends. I would've given odds that there wasn't a kind bone in his body. When I entered his modest flat he was sitting in a chair looking out the window. I could see he had been crying. When I asked what the trouble was, he explained that his canary had died. I really couldn't believe my ears. This man who is a complete outcast and rebel in human society had been this deeply touched by the loss of his pet. Alexander King tells a wonderful story about seeing a man and a dog get out of a cab in front of an apartment. The man started to go up the stairs into his flat. The dog, an ugly long tailed beast with shaggy long hair, walked in the other direction. King called after the man to tell him his dog was walking away. The man said, "Oh, that's not my dog." "But he got out of the cab with you,” explained King. "If he's not yours how come he was in the cab with you?" The man walked over to King and said, "Well, I was going into my place here when I saw that ugly dog. He was the worst looking hound I have ever seen. I thought to myself, how often does a dog like that get a ride in a taxi. So I took him around the block a few times." I think as long as we feel that way about animals, the human race is going to be OK.
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