Maybe Got it Wrong

I maybe got it wrong
putting myself up here on top
to claim an everlasting soul
denying my dog the same

He's got my number
philosophically unencumbered
and knowing life,
or so it seems

I question my immortality
and he's so confident of his
I need the comfort of an afterlife
and he's far too cool for that

My metaphysical self tells me
I'll elbow in somehow
My complete dog doesn't even ask
doesn't need a rung to call his own

If the meek and charitable are winners
over greed and avarice
The men I measure against my dog
mostly come up short, including me