Quotes About Dogs

I was sitting in Arizona when I received Dogs on Cape Cod. Seeing the joy these dogs had playing on the beaches and in the marsh grasses on the Cape carried me back to my family visits in Harwich. The dogs are so full of life, it just made me smile.

I had written a lot about my dog dying before. I wrote a newspaper column about it and it turned out to be the most popular column I'd ever written. That and the lame Joni Mitchell column I did. But the dog column, my god! People love dogs. Anybody who writes regularly should know, when in doubt: dogs! If you're a columnist, when in doubt, write a column about the culture of narcissism - like a scolding column about the culture of narcissism - or write something about dogs. That's the homerun in my take.

Everyone knows dogs. Most people love dogs. I think most American families probably have a dog, but I don't think people really realize or understand just how wonderful and special dogs are.

Why did dogs make one want to cry? There was something so quiet and hopeless about their sympathy. Jasper, knowing something was wrong, as dogs always do. Trunks being packed. Cars being brought to the door. Dogs standing with drooping tails, dejected eyes. Wandering back to their baskets in the hall when the sound of the car dies away.

People can be a fine substitute for other dogs. But I think that if they had to choose, dogs by and large would choose the company of other dogs.

All dogs can be guide dogs of a sort, leading us to places we didn't even know we needed or wanted to go.

The dogs in our lives, the dogs we come to love and who (we fervently believe) love us in return, offer more than fidelity, consolation, and companionship. They offer comedy, irony, wit, and a wealth of anecdotes, the "shaggy dog stories" and "stupid pet tricks" that are commonplace pleasures of life.

Dogs are actually very smart, it's just that they're rather clumsy, but it's this trait that makes humans attracted to them and why I love dogs so much.

I get in my golf cart with my dogs, I have five dogs.

Mankind is like dogs, not gods - as long as you don't get mad they'll bite you - but stay mad and you'll never be bitten. Dogs don't respect humility and sorrow.

God turns clouds inside out to make fluffy beds for the dogs in Dog Heaven, and when they are tired from running and barking and eating ham-sandwich biscuits, the dogs find a cloud bed for sleeping. God watches over each one of them. And there are no bad dreams.

Civilization is drugs, alcohol, engines of war, prostitution, machines and machine slaves, low wages, bad food, bad taste, prisons, reformatories, lunatic asylums, divorce, perversion, brutal sports, suicides, infanticide, cinema, quackery, demagogy, strikes, lockouts, revolutions, putsches, colonization, electric chairs, guillotines, sabotage, floods, famine, disease, gangsters, money barons, horse racing, fashion shows, poodle dogs, chow dogs, Siamese cats, condoms, peccaries, syphilis, gonorrhea, insanity, neuroses, etc., etc.

I petted the dogs who didn't argue with me ever. All dogs love God. They're wiser than their masters.

The good Lord in his ultimate wisdom gave us three things to make life bearable: hope, jokes, and dogs, but the greatest of these was dogs.

Some dogs could play fetch all day long, while others have absolutely no interest in chasing a ball. Some might love "find the treat" type puzzle toys and others may completely ignore them. The important things are that your dog finds the toy interesting without becoming obsessed over it, and that it is size and safety appropriate for your dog. A Chihuahua is probably not going to be a good match to a Kong as big as she is, and you wouldn't want to risk having your Malamute swallow one of those smaller size tennis balls.

Dogs never bite me. Just humans.

This guy from L.A. sits down next to me, and he says "you like baseball?" I said, "Oh, man, I love baseball." So he goes "Did you know that if Jesus had played ball, he'd have been the greatest ball player ever?" Like I'm gonna argue with that logic. So I sat there for a second, and then I said "did you know that if Babe Ruth had been the Messiah, the Catholics would have beer and hot dogs at Communion?" He left.

Dogs act exactly the way we would act if we had no shame.

I didn't want to talk, and I didn't think dogs could solve my problems. But they were so uncritical and un-judgmental. Sometimes when you're really blue, you don't want to talk, but you want that sense of companionship. I certainly enjoy that with my beasts.

I always disliked dogs, those protectors of cowards who lack the courage to fight an assailant themselves.

How good we all are, in theory, to the old; and how in fact we wish them to wander off like old dogs, die without bothering us, and bury themselves.

Cry "havoc!" and let loose the dogs of war, That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial.

Aristocrats have heirs; the poor have children; the rest keep dogs.

They offer, if we are wise enough or simple enough to take it, a model for what it means to give your heart with little thought of return. Both powerfully imaginary and comfortingly real, dogs act as mirrors for our own beliefs about what would constitute a truly humane society. Perhaps it is not too late for them to teach us some new tricks.

People of the world, unite and defeat the U.S. aggressors and all their running dogs!

I don't care about the fact that a dogs place is not in a bed - the closer they are to me, the more beautiful it is.

Shepherds know many mysterious languages; they speak the language of sheep and dogs, language of stars and skies, flowers and herbs.

My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all, I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides, the death-cup mushroom. Everyone else in our family is dead.

I have several Scottish Terriers. I find them to be the most wonderful dogs.

There is one other reason for dressing well, namely that dogs respect it, and will not attack you in good clothes.

They were back. The demons in all their glory. And they had a plan. I made plans sometimes, too, but they rarely involved world domination. Hot dogs on a grill, maybe. Tequila.

Dogs are one of those things that make you happy and make you wonder.

Dogs are mute and obedient, but they have watched us and know us and can smell how pitiful we are.

The disposition of noble dogs is to be gentle with people they know and the opposite with those they don't know...How, then, can the dog be anything other than a lover of learning since it defines what's its own and what's alien.

Let eloquence be flung to the dogs rather than souls be lost. What we want is to win souls. They are not won by flowery speeches.

For the time being I have seen enough of living things, of dogs, of men, of all flabby masses which move spontaneously.

You'll hunt me. You'll condemn me. Set the dogs on me. Because that's what needs to happen. Because sometimes truth isn't good enough. Sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded.

Hillary Clinton lost because of who she is, because of her track record of failure, because there's no resume, there's no record of experience that she's good or qualified at anything. She cannot cite any achievements or accomplishments, other than traveling miles and being named after people she wasn't named after and being told to go join the dogs by somebody at the Marine Corps. She's exposed.

I just moved onto Queen West, after 20 years in Cabbagetown. The whole area around Trinity-Bellwoods is one of the juiciest in Toronto - all kinds of people to watch, dogs to pat, food to eat, galleries to check out. And the walk home from CBC delivers some of the most interesting window-shopping in town.

Some of my Arcanum bunkmates taught me a card game called dogs-breath. I returned the favor by giving an impromptu lesson in psychology, probability, and manual dexterity. I won almost two whole talents before they stopped inviting me back to their games.

"I thought this was a cookout. You know, dogs and burgers, Tater Tots, ambrosia salad" Dexter picked up a box of Twinkies, tossing them into the cart. "And Twinkies." "It is... Except that it's a cookout thrown by my mother." "And?" "And my mother doesn't cook." He looked at me waiting. "At all. My mother doesn't cook at all." "She must cook sometimes." "Nope." "Everyone can make scrambled eggs, Remy. It's programmed into you at birth, the default setting. Like being able to swim and knowing not to mix pickles with oatmeal. You just KNOW."

You know what I love best about baseball? The pine tar, the resin, the grass, the dirt - and that's just in the hot-dogs.

I also like men who like dogs. I couldn't date a man who doesn't like my dog.

If you Google the word "fluffy," I'm the first thing that pops up. It's me, dogs and rabbits.

I've got four dogs, and I just don't do dog doo. I'm a diva when it comes to that.

Dogs and humans are symbiotic species. We need each other.

The paparazzi are nothing but dogs of war.

My mom cooked pot roast with noodles and frozen vegetables. Or she'd make spaghetti or hot dogs, or heat up TV dinners. Before I started modeling at age 19, I was 5'8" and weighed 165 pounds.