I cannot bring myself to vote for a woman who has been voice-trained to speak to me as though my dog has just died.
This is a bit different to the Thursday breakfast I'm used to. It's usually just me and my dog.
My maternal desires are fully satisfied with my dogs.
All my dogs have been scamps and thieves and troublemakers and I've adored them all.
Just thinking that my dog loves me more than I love him, I feel shame.
I play Beethoven and Bach. At the same time, Biggie is my dog.
There's a lot of Kenya that's not like me. I like Birkenstocks, granola, my dog Pops.
The pug is living proof that God has a sense of humor.
I was really in to shiny things when I was younger and I stole a shiny tag for my dog. I didn't get caught. I hope I don't go to jail for that.
I bring my dogs on set with me, and my little dog Karoo is smart as a whip. She knows where the craft-services food tables are, so anytime I can't find her, I know she has found her way to that area. She's a funny dog.
I don't actually like people. I'm a loner and if I had my way I'd just walk my dogs every day, never talk to anyone and then die.
No one's coming in seeing my dogs, daughter or the crack of my ass, forget it.
In repose, my face looks as though I had gone through a terrible deal in the last five minutes. I have to disguise the expression and get a glassy-eyed look. That's something I learned from my dog.
I get home at the end of the day and I don't want to talk. All I want to do is lay on the floor and pet my dogs and my cats.
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.
I enjoy walking my dog and completing crossword puzzles.
I don't trust anybody in my life except my mother and my dogs.
I like to visit my horse, have a walk with my dog.
For fidelity, devotion, love, many a two-legged animal is below the dog and the horse. Happy would it be for thousands of people if they could stand at last before the Judgment Seat and say, I have loved as truly and have lived as decently as my dog, and yet we call them only brutes.
I don't really go to clubs anymore. I’m actually quite settled. Living in Highgate with my dog and my husband and my daughter! I’m not a hell-raiser. But don’t burst the bubble. Behind closed doors, for sure I’m a hell-raiser.
When I do think, ‘Man a f—cking motel room with a couple of thousand dollars worth of narcotics would do me right,’ I just look over at my dog and remember that Buster’s never seen me high.
My dog was barking at everyone the other day. Still, what can you expect from a cross-breed.
I love a dog. He does nothing for political reasons.
If fame belonged to me, I could not escape her; if she did not, the longest day would pass me on the chase, and the approbation of my dog would forsake me.
My dogs are crazy. They're always getting into some kind of trouble but then again, they're my most loyal friends.
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