Phoebe – a small dog who wasn’t known for her jumping abilities – wasn’t allowed on the furniture but after begging every night, her female owner finally said, “OK, Phoebe, if you can make it onto the bed by yourself, then I’ll let you stay up here.” Moments later Phoebe used all her might and jumped on the bed; her female owner turned to her husband and said, “See, I told you she speaks English.”
You know she is the one for me so you’re just going to have to get over it.
I don’t care little dog – she is staying!
Oh shit she’s unravelling!
Woollen dog comes apart.
It was a chilly twenty-three minutes past two in the morning of one late October when Archie, the Johnsons’ progressively arthritic and generally grumpy West Highland Terrier, finally managed to squeeze beneath the fence, evade the gaze of the facility’s security lights and set off down the alleyway as fast as he could carry himself, back to where he’d come from, quite sorry he had ever left in the first place.
He was followed close behind by a great many others – big and small, young and old, stumbling and hobbling – who stuck with him all the way across frosty fields and muddy paths, over New Town tarmac and Old Town cobbles, beneath icy black skies and towards the fire-bitten sunrise that lit up the delighted face of the youngest Johnson as he called out to his parents, looked down from his bedroom window upon a garden of seventy-three brand new pet dogs and locked onto the bright black eyes of one tufty white and decidedly less grumpy face.
We have taught each other so much in the time we’ve spent together.
You’ve taught me about love and hope and justice and I’ve taught you about lentils and parachute pants and how to fold little paper dogs out of any spare scrap you find.
Kidnap the dog and dye it red.
Do this for me.
I have advice for when you happen to buy a dog.
If the breed is GIANT FIRE-BREATHING Border Collie, don’t just assume that is the pet store being all clever and funny to sell dogs.
All the dead pets of the world frolic in the afterlife with all the dead children.
It makes me happy to know my brother and Blackie aren’t alone.
Until the end of time I’ll look after you.
My time diamond space dog.
Golden retriever my ass.
Where is my pirate treasure, dog?
A dog barking at thunder: no greater courage.
As I was stumbling in the night to get the the washroom, I felt my dog brush against my leg. But then I heard my dog barking upstairs at something else.
The sound of the growling dog pulled me from a deep slumber. I don’t own a dog.
While lying in bed trying to go to sleep, I heard my dog scratching my bedroom door. As I got up to let her in, I found her sleeping at the side of the bed.
The thing looked strange, it’s teeth all crinkly and eyes crazy like they were cut out and pasted back in by that fat kid that sat behind you in third grade and wheezed all the time. The description read “Last known Maori kuri – collected 1876 Catlins, New Zealand” and you didn’t even know that there were such things as Maori dogs and now you find out that they are all extinct and you Google it and find out that Hawaiian poi dogs are also extinct and you wish that instead of dogs that all red headed fat kids were extinct.
Bereft of peace, I couldn’t bear the agony of watching my poor doggie’s last moments of life. I turned away, covering my eyes, as the injection went in.
I swear it is the last time.
Don’t fret, my little ochre space-dog.
Dog on my left and dog on my right.
Dogs all around me.
Um … yes, putting a dog down because you were bored of it is soulless.
My desire to sleep with her kept this thought quiet.
I can’t go out today.
I ran out of flying-dog spray.