Best 3947 quotes in «dog quotes» category

There are trees to pee on and tiny animals to chase! (Oberon

They walked along in silence. Silence was the only way of not thinking about Karenin in the past tense. They did not let him out of their sight; they were with him constantly, waiting for him to smile. But he did not smile; he merely walked with them, limping along on his three legs. He's just doing it for us, said Tereza. He didn't want to go for a walk. He's just doing it to make us happy. It was sad, what she said, yet without realizing it they were happy. They were happy not in spite of their sadness but thanks to it. They were holding hands and both had the same image in their eyes: a limping dog who represented ten years of their lives.

They kissed and hugged and played roughhouse. Whenever love was mentioned, roughhouse was generally forthcoming, at least as far as Shadow could tell.

Training is a loop, a two-way communication in which an event at one end of the loop changes events at the other, exactly like a cybernetic feedback system; yet many psychologists treat their work as something they do to a subject, not with the subject.

This dog, who shall be under your care, belongs to the best of humankind’s creation. For man transformed that which he feared into something which could love him. The dog, Theo, is the great witness to the one truth. There is but the one truth. Four words like my tale. The truth is this: Love triumphs over fear.

This cave is so dark I can't see any of you in your ninja outfits." "Sorry." the boys said and they peeled off their outfits and left them in a pile. The boys left Mollie's mask on because she looked awesome and mysterious, but she pulled it off anyway, because she was a dog and dogs don't wear masks.

To most Americans, a dog is a potential mate. To some Chinese, a dog is potential meat.

Volnay is prancing, head up proudly; her squat little bowlegs producing a smooth gait that would make the dog show people preen. She carries herself like a supermodel. Weiner dog or no, she is a fairly perfect specimen of her breed. And I know I'm supposed to be all about the rescue mutts, and I give money to PAWS every year, but there is something about having a dog with a pedigree that makes me smile. Her AKC name is The Lady Volnay of Cote de Beaune. The French would call her a jolie laide, "beautiful ugly," like those people whose slightly off features, sort of unattractive and unconventional on their own, come together to make someone who is compelling, striking, and handsome in a unique way. I'm always so proud that I'm her person.

We could be having a good or a bad day and Bear would give you a warm greeting that could melt your heart

Waiting patiently for the fatest bone is a dog's lifestyle.

Walk with me. Walk with me, buddy.

We did it, boy,” she said. Her words pricked his ears. He watched her radiant smile. “Theo is a lover,” she whispered.

We made our choice, he said. We hunted for them, we guarded their brats. God knows, we helped them make a civilization, didn't we? And why? I said I didn't know; it was beyond me. Because, he said, we thought they knew how to take care of things. How to keep the world full of meat and flowers.

We were poor back then. Not living in a cardboard carton poor, not “we might have to eat the dog” poor, but still poor. Poor like, no insurance poor, and going to McDonald's was a really big excitement poor, wearing socks for gloves in the winter poor, and collecting nickels and dimes from the washing machine because she never got allowance, that kind of poor… poor enough to be nostalgic about poverty. So, when my mom and dad took me here for my tenth birthday, it was a really big deal. They’d saved up for two months to take me to the photography store and they bought me a Kodak Instamatic film camera… I really miss those days, because we were still a real family back then… this mall doesn’t even have a film photography store anymore, just a cell phone and digital camera store, it’s depressing…

We now had three girls and one testosterone-pumped guy bird that spent every walking minute doing of of three things: pursuing sex, having sex or crowing boastfully about the sex he had just scored. Jenny observed that roosters are what men would be if left to their own devices, with no social conventions to rein in their baser instincts, and I couldn't disagree. I had to admit, I kind of admired the lucky bastard.

We will love each other. We will be young. As two dogs playing together, childish again.

What kind of dog is this?” “The kind who knows a lot.

What's his full name again?" Seamus was rubbing his chin. Dan hesitated, glancing at me and then away. "Bark Wahlberg," he grumbled.

When I was around Sunny, there was no time to dream about some easier, prettier, more comprehensible, less fucked-up existence. Now was all we had: Sunny lifting her eyes to meet mine. Cupping water in my own hands to rinse the blood off her head. Sunny’s tongue on my nose, her tail thudding on my leg. The reach of my hand across her spine. The words of comfort and rage and fear and sadness and hope that I spoke only in her presence.

When Rin Tin Tin first became famous, most dogs in the world would not sit down when asked. Dogs performed duties: they herded sheep, they barked at strangers, they did what dogs do naturally, and people learned to interpret and make use of how they behaved. The idea of a dog's being obedient for the sake of good manners was unheard of. When dogs lived outside, as they usually did on farms and ranches, the etiquette required of them was minimal. But by the 1930s, Americans were leaving farms and moving into urban and suburban areas, bringing dogs along as pets and sharing living quarters with them. At the time, the principles of behavior were still mostly a mystery -- Ivan Pavlov's explication of conditional reflexes, on which much training is based, wasn't even published in an English translation until 1927. If dogs needed to be taught how to behave, people had to be trained to train their dogs. The idea that an ordinary person -- not a dog professional -- could train his own pet was a new idea, which is partly why Rin Tin Tin's performances in movies and onstage were looked upon as extraordinary.

When we look at a dog, we see the best in ourselves.

When you cry about losing a dog, it means the dog did its job. It means the dog made a connection.

When we got back to my room, Gilda gave the dog a bowl of water and set some newspaper down in the bathroom for her to pee on. After that was taken care of, I ordered the cheesecake and coffee that Gilda said she has a yen for, and then we continues talking. Sparkle didn’t make a sound — no barking or winning or heaving breathing — she just sat on the floor and looked at the two of us. It must have been strange for her. She was a year old and had been taken from a farm by a stranger, put on an airplane, driven in a limousine, and then hugged and kissed by another stranger. Even when the doorbell rang, she didn’t bark. I thought perhaps she wasn’t able to bark. The waiter brought in the cheesecake and  poured out some coffee for us. When Gilda and I started eating the cheesecake, we heard a little peep form Sparkle. She sounded more like a bird than a dog — a very polite bird — but it was obvious that she wanted her share of cheesecake, which Gilda gave her. So the three of us polished off the cheesecake — “One piece, three forks, please.

When we gaze into the adoring eyes of a canine companion, we're staring at the carefully muted and shaped soul of a wolf.

Why, Daddy?” she asked. She still had that strange look on her face. “Why do dogs die so young? Shadow was only seventeen. He was not even as old as my babysitter.” “To teach us,” he said. “Teach us what, Daddy?” “Compassion,” he replied. “But why, Daddy?” she asked. “So that we might be kinder. So we might make the world kinder. They leave, but they leave us with their lesson. All great teachers do that.” “Yes,” said Emma. “He was a good teacher to me too. He was also a wonderful runway model.” He handed her the polaroid. She examined its rivulets and splotches. She put her thumb on the smudges, rubbing them. To Theo, it seemed she knew of the eyes and mouth that once had been. Then the full gravity of the circumstance fell upon her. Emma wept. She was now a girl with a crack in her heart. The sorrows of the world were now available to her. Soon, she would know their beauty.

Where is Albert?" "He'll be here momentarily. I asked our housekeeper to fetch him." Christopher blinked. "She's not afraid of him?" "Of Albert? Heavens, no, everyone adores him." The concept of someone, anyone, adoring his belligerent pet was difficult to grasp. Having expected to receive an inventory of all the damage Albert had caused, Christopher gave her a blank look. And then the housekeeper returned with an obedient and well-groomed dog trotting by her side. "Albert?" Christopher said. The dog looked at him, ears twitching. His whiskered face changed, eyes brightening with excitement. Without hesitating, Albert launched forward with a happy yelp. Christopher knelt on the floor, gathering up an armful of joyfully wriggling canine. Albert strained to lick him, and whimpered and dove against him repeatedly. Christopher was overwhelmed by feelings of kinship and relief. Grabbing the warm, compact body close, Christopher murmured his name and petted him roughly, and Albert whined and trembled. "I missed you, Albert. Good boy. There's my boy." Unable to help himself, Christopher pressed his face against the rough fur. He was undone by guilt, humbled by the fact that even though he had abandoned Albert for the summer, the dog showed nothing but eager welcome. "I was away too long," Christopher murmured, looking into the soulful brown eyes. "I won't leave you again." He dragged his gaze up to Beatrix's. "It was a mistake to leave him," he said gruffly. She was smiling at him. "Albert won't hold it against you. To err is human, to forgive, canine." To his disbelief, Christopher felt an answering smile tug at the corners of his lips. He continued to pet the dog, who was fit and sleek. "You've taken good care of him." "He's much better behaved than before," she said. "You can take him anywhere now." Rising to his feet, Christopher looked down at her. "Why did you do it?" he asked softly. "He's very much worth saving. Anyone could see that." The awareness between them became unbearably aware. Christopher's heart worked in hard, uneven beats. How pretty she was in the white dress. She radiated a healthy female physicality that was very different from the fashionable frailty of London women. He wondered what it would be like to bed her, if she would be as direct in her passions as she was in everything else.

While this dump was reviled by humans, to Shadow it was a magical place of the most succulent fragrances . . . of rotting meat and fermenting apples. He braved the ravaging moths and the mad hornets to romp among the piles of garbage, intoxicated by the smells of life on earth—of brine in the pick-ling vat, coffee grounds, blackened toast, the flat, moist plug of apple tobacco, decaying books, broken hens’ eggs, sawdust shavings, and the whiff of the cold metal in the mattress springs. His nose trembled in the flutter of his nostrils. The odor of metal was so potent he could taste the steel in his mouth.

While some dogs existed with the paranoia that the whole world infringed on their property rights and needed furious barking to be reminded of their place, this dog wanted only to find warm places to sleep and enough canned food to eat. Any atavistic memory of wolfdom had been bred out of his ancestors centuries ago.

Where's Kahn?" "In bed. You don't mind if I pet your little pink kitty? Do you?" I chuckled, "You mean my HOT DIGGITY DOG.

Would you kick her ass already?" Dick said, shoving me back toward Missy. "Come on, Stretch, man up. You do better than this! Get mad." I nodded, rolling a dislocated shoulder back into place with a grunt and staggering back toward my opponent. Behind me, Zeb yelled, "She tried to hurt Fitz!" He turned to Gabriel and Dick. "That'll get her mad." Gabriel rolled his eyes. "She's been framed for murder twice over, shot in the back, her arms were set on fire, and her parents are being held hostage. You think tampered dog water is what's going to make her angry?" "You tried to hurt my dog!" I wheezed as I lurched toward a grinning Missy.

Will we have pets?” I bite back the question regarding kids. While this might be a fun fantasy, imagining being responsible for something like that is terrifying. “Sure.” Noah stays near the fire on one bent knee and occasionally pokes it to keep the dwindling flames alive. “I had a dog once.” “What type?” “A mix of some sort. Part Lab, part something smaller than Lab. Its paws were too big for its body, so it skidded across the kitchen floor.” “Is that what you want?” “If we’re going to live alone on a mountain, we need a guard dog. A German shepherd. Something like that.” “Guard dog?” Not what I had in mind for the fantasy. “We need something cute and cuddly.” I squish my fingers in the air as if I have the little puff ball in my hands. “It can sleep in our bed.” “No fucking way, Echo. I’m not sharing my bed with a dog.

With some stories, you really can't rush things. And it's often best just to sit back and enjoy the journey for what it is.

You don't keep a dog and bark yourself.

Yet he could not enjoy the walk. In the morning especially a bougainvillaea looks handmade, lawns are always lawns, and it is true indeed that dogs smell fear. Cats don't say.

You can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats his dog....

You don't just choose a name at random. A name is a name. A major responsibility.

You can take a dog outside, but you can't make it pee

3. There are bears and there are small dogs. Be strong like bear! If they take out your teeth, sit on the dogs. Bears always forget they can just sit on the dogs. Sit on the dogs.

You sure that’s a dog, sir? Looks like an illegal immigrant pooka to me

111 company is like a dog, who dirts those most whom he loves best.

A big dog tends to be much more at ease with kids and gentle with them than a little one that's always yelping.

A blind bloke walks into a shop with a guide dog. He picks the Dog up and starts swinging it around his head. Alarmed, a shop assistant calls out: 'Can I help, sir?' 'No thanks,' says the blind bloke. 'Just looking.'

A book reads the better which is our own, and has been so long known to us, that we know the topography of its blots, and dog's ears, and can trace the dirt in it to having read it at tea with buttered muffins.

You jumped like a frog. You touched like a dog. You kissed like a bird.

Your dog is the ultimate acolyte; he believes you are the very image of God.

A barking dog is often more useful than a sleeping lion.

A blue dog, you know, is the opposite of a yellow dog. And a yellow dog was somebody who was willing to follow his party even when he knew it was wrong.

A border collie named Orson inspired me to buy a 110-acre farm with four barns and a sheep. That led to a series of books about Bedlam Farm and about dogs, rural life, lambing and herding sheep.

A boy can learn a lot from a dog: obedience, loyalty, and the importance of turning around three times before lying down.

A bureaucrat is the most despicable of men, though he is needed as vultures are needed, but one hardly admires vultures whom bureaucrats so strangely resemble. I have yet to meet a bureaucrat who was not petty, dull, almost witless, crafty or stupid, an oppressor or a thief, a holder of little authority in which he delights, as a boy delights in possessing a vicious dog. Who can trust such creatures?