In this anonymous poem found in a collection dated 1916, a man's values and a dog's are compared. The results are understated, but all the more tart for that. Ouch.
He was a dog,
But he stayed at home
And guarded the family night and day.
He was a dog
That didn't roam.
He lay on the porch or chased the stray —
The tramps, the burglar, the hen, away;
For a dog's true heart for that household beat
At morning and evening, in cold and heat.
He was a dog.
He was a man,
And didn't stay
To cherish his wife and his children fair.
He was a man.
And every day
His heart grew callous, its love-beats rare,
He thought of himself at the close of day,
And, cigar in his fingers, hurried away
To the club, the lodge, the store, the show.
But — he had a right to go, you know.
He was a man
-- The dog's book of verse, J. Earl Clauson, ed. (Boston: Small, Maynard, & Co., 1916) p. 67.