Quotes About Dog

It's a responsibility as a parent to a human and a parent to a dog. Situations can happen, a dog can react if it's feeling threatened or frightened the same as a human would.

I got a dog with a Napoleon complex. I have a Napoleon complex. We're small. Anything big that we feel is threatening us, we want to fight. We're not a pushover.

Sure I know where the press room is - I just look for where they throw the dog meat.

I launched into my speech, it took me a few seconds to realize that the only one listening was max (the dog) but at least he had the good manners to stop chewing the toilet brush and pay attention.

Lucky ain't a puppy no more and he don't bark for just any old reason. It takes a mailman, a squirrel, a car, a bird, a blowing leaf, or a tumbling scrap of paper to get him stirred up now.

The law was for people who needed instructions, she would later tell me. The same people who needed to be told not to put a baby in the dryer or a dog in the microwave.

Well, I'm pretty domestic actually. I walk my dog. I go grocery shopping. I hang out with friends. I'm pretty normal, whatever normal is, on my off time.

I think that's the great thing about being with, having a dog, is it kind of forces you to be in the present because that's definitely where they're spending their time.

Whenever I've been bitten, it's because I made a mistake. I either misread the dog's body language or let my guard down at the wrong time.

It was 7 minutes after midnight. The dog was lying on the grass in the middle of the lawn in front of Mrs. Shears's house.

I pulled the fork out of the dog and lifted him into my arms and hugged him. He was leaking blood from the fork-holes. I like dogs. You always know what a dog is thinking. It has four moods. Happy, sad, cross and concentrating. Also, dogs are faithful and they do not tell lies because they cannot talk.

Their conversation had gone like this: 'Something something, something something, something something something…the White Dog of Afghanistan…something something something, something, something, something else, something entirely unintelligible.

I do not know whether it came from his own innate depravity or from the promptings of his master, but he was rude enough to set a dog at me. Neither dog nor man liked the look of my stick, however, and the matter fell through. Relations were strained after that, and further inquiries out of the question.

The Daimons could, in theory, shoot you until you're too weakened to fight them and then behead you. (Celena) Want to put a cone around my head like a dog to make sure they can't decapitate me while we're at it? (Rafael)

Your whole house smells of dog, says someone who comes to visit. I say I'll take care of it. Which I do by never inviting that person to visit again. • • •

For God's sake. In movies, they fix the note to a dog's collar and it trots off obediently, no nonsense.

Is it me or is President Bush's life starting to sound like a country song. He's from Texas, his dog just died, and it looks like he might lose his job. Next thing, his truck is going to break down.

I got a pit bull from a shelter, so my whole life is centered on this dog, and I've been writing a lot of dog jokes. I should probably give up now, because I'm writing jokes about my dog.

Never stand between a dog and the hydrant.

Hank is a dog, not a human dressed up in a dog suit. Humans share some of his flaws, but I get my ideas from watching dogs.

And the fierce wind is an echo of angry childhood and of a very scared boy looking out the window—remembering my dead dog outside by the wounded house as the gray Texas dust gradually covered her up—and thinking: It isnt fair! Why cant dogs go to Heaven?

And the next moment the fierce wind comes screaming, whirling the needle-pointed dust, stifling all hope. And you know then that what has not happened will never happen. That hope is an end within itself. And the fierce wind is an echo of angry childhood and of a very scared boy looking out the window—remembering my dead dog outside by the wounded house as the gray Texas dust gradually covered her up—and thinking: It isnt fair! Why cant dogs go to Heaven?

He's a flyin' mchine, with a telescope nose. You got a grand dog, Mr. Gregory, a grand dog. A gamer dog never lived – he'll try all the way; but this here dog that old fool's go a hold of somehow aint't human. In three hours he'll find all the quail in the state!

And so there was a chair which no one ever sat in standing in the bay window of the living-room. And it was understood that the chair would remain empty until a dog was born at Brookfield who could lie in it without shame.