Puppy Quotes

“That's the secret to life... replace one worry with another....”
― Charles Schultz

“I like dogs
Big dogs
Little dogs
Fat dogs
Doggy dogs
Old dogs
Puppy dogs
I like dogs
A dog that is barking over the hill
A dog that is dreaming very still
A dog that is running wherever he will
I like dogs.”
― Margaret Wise Brown, The Friendly Book

“Thus went my first Court Day.
I think I'm going to puke.”
― Tamora Pierce, Terrier

“Every bride is beautiful. It’s like newborn babies or puppies. They can’t help it.”
― Emme Rollins, Dear Rockstar

“I'll be your puppy. What do you want me to do? Chew your slippers? Piss on the kitchen floor? Lick your nose? Sniff your crotch? I bet there's nothing a puppy can do that I can't do!”
― Neil Gaiman, American Gods

“He giggled like a puppy being tickled by a kitten wearing a duckling costume.”
― Jim Benton, Okay, So Maybe I Do Have Superpowers

“As I dive between the legs of a big Gunnar, I see Mair wind up and slam her shockstick hard as she can between the V of another guy’s thighs. Falling, he makes a noise that I can’t say I’ve heard a human utter before, sort of like I imagine a puppy would sound being put through a juicer.”
― Ann Aguirre, Grimspace

“As for the young man carrying the groceries, he was a thin, fair-skinned young man, and I would have said that he had been born in the house. He had the vacant, dog-like expressions that house-born slaves, as I remembered, liked to put on when they were in public with their masters and performing some simple task. This fellow was pretending that the Waitrose groceries were a great burden, but this was just an act, to draw attention to himself and the lady he served. He, too, had mistaken me for an Arab, and when we crossed he had dropped the burdened-down expression and given me a look of wistful inquisitiveness, like a puppy that wanted to play but had just been made to understand that it wasn't playtime.”
― V.S. Naipaul, A Bend in the River

“It came to me that every time I lose a dog they take a piece of my heart with them. And every new dog who comes into my life, gifts me with a piece of their heart. If I live long enough, all the components of my heart will be dog, and I will become as generous and loving as they are.”
― Unknown

“My dog, Willy, died a few years ago, but one of my great memories of him is watching him play in the front yard of our house at dusk. He was a puppy then, and in the early evenings he would contract a case of the zoomies. He ran in delighted circles around us, yipping and jumping at nothing in particular, and then after a while, he'd get tired, and he'd run over to me and lie down. And then he would do something absolutely extraordinary: He would roll over onto his back, and present his soft belly. I always marveled at the courage of that, his ability to be so absolutely vulnerable to us. He offered us the place ribs don't protect, trusting that we weren't going to bite or stab him. It's hard to trust the world like that, to show it your belly. There's something deep within me, something intensely fragile, that is terrified of turning itself to the world. I’m scared to even write this down, because I worry that having confessed this fragility, you know now where to punch. I know that if I’m hit where I am earnest, I will never recover.”
― John Green, The Anthropocene Reviewed

“He should rest his mind and body as much as possible to ensure a complete recovery." She wrinkled her nose playfully at Bazzle, who was curled up on the other side of the bed with a ball of red fluff cuddled against his chest. "That means we mustn't let the puppy disturb Mr. Severin's sleep."
The puppy had been a gift from Winterborne and Helen, delivered just that morning. They had received word of a new litter from a friend who bred toy poodle dogs, and at their request had sent the pick of the litter when he was ready to be weaned. Bazzle was enchanted with the little creature, whose presence had already helped him to stop fretting over the fright he'd received.
"There's a dust wad on the bed," had been Tom's comment upon first seeing the puppy. "It has legs."
Now the toy poodle stretched and yawned, and toddled up along Tom's side, staring at him with bright amber eyes.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Do you remember that I said I have something to show you?"
Back when they were entering the house. Before she'd seen Hugh. Before their argument. "Yes?"
He pushed open the door to her bedroom. "Look."
She went inside and saw Valente sitting on the floor in front of her fireplace with a basket. He had a silly grin on his face.
She glanced over her shoulder to Raphael. "What-?"
Her husband tilted his chin toward Valente and the basket. "Go and see."
At the same time she heard an animal whimper.
Her lips parted and she picked up her skirts to hurry to the basket. It was lined with a soft blanket and inside was the sweetest little blond puppy, looking very sorry for itself.
Iris stared, torn. Did Raphael think a 'puppy' would be an adequate substitution for him?
The moment the puppy saw her it began whimpering and yipping, trying to climb from its wicker prison, but its legs were too short to make the attempt and it ended by falling backward, revealing that it was female.
It was hardly the puppy's fault that she was angry with Raphael.
"Oh," Iris breathed, sinking to her knees on the carpet opposite Valente. "She's perfect."
Somehow the words made tears start in her eyes again.
She picked up the puppy, which wriggled in Iris's hands until she held the small animal against her chest. The puppy promptly began licking Iris's chin with a tiny pink tongue.
Iris looked up at Raphael through her tears. "What is her name?"
He shook his head. "She has none that I know of. You must give her one."
Iris stood, cradling the still-squirming puppy carefully, and went to her husband. "Thank you."
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips, trying to convey all she'd said before. All he'd pushed aside.
'Stay. Stay. Stay.'
Raphael took her arms gently and kissed her, angling his face over hers. He embraced her as if she were a lifeline.
As if he wished to remain with her forever.
The puppy yelped and he took a step back, breaking the kiss.
Drawing away from her without effort.
He walked out of the bedroom.
Iris closed her eyes to keep her sorrow and tears in. She kissed the top of the puppy's silky head and whispered in her ear, "Tansy.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Desire

“Come on, buddy. The maze is fun." I tug at the leash. "I did unholy things to your future mom there more times than I can count."

"Jesse!" I call out to her, which prompts her breathless giggles, the ones that float straight to my dick. I know where to find her. In the center of the snowflake. "Stay where you are. I'm coming to get you."

I'm praying the Labrador puppy behind me won't bark and shit all over my surprise. Especially literally.

"Are you panting?" She laughs harder, and I shoot the pup a you're-making-me-look-bad frown, trying hard not to crack up. Dude is killing my swag. For a cute thing, he sure sounds like a chain-smoking swine.

"Yeah." I crack my gum. "Gotta work on my cardio. I could use some help."

"You're getting help twice a day, sometimes three on weekends.”
― L.J. Shen, Bane

“Snot puppies.”
― Jazz Feylynn

“There is a gate across the entrance, which Liam moves aside for me, and there is a scrabbling noise as a red blur comes zooming across the room. Liam reaches down and picks up the dervish, who licks him frantically. "Hello, girl. Nice to see you too. This is Anneke, she's a friend of mine. Anneke, this is Kerry. Like the country." I can finally see that she is an Irish setter, maybe four or five months old, and I reach out to pet her, and Liam drops her unceremoniously in my arms. She is soft and warm, and immediately snuggles cozily against me.
"Cute pup."
"Yeah, I have to say, she has stolen my heart."
"That's just because she's Irish."
"That might be it. Always did have a thing for redheads." This makes me blush, and I focus on cuddling the puppy to cover my discomfit.”
― Stacey Ballis, Recipe for Disaster

“It was a glorious evening, the sun seeming to hesitate in the process of setting, as if it couldn't bear to end the day. It was teetering on the horizon, throwing ribbons of pink and mauve across the sky like life ropes, and the air was sweet with jasmine. They'd brought the white cane chairs down from the house, and Anthony, having spent the afternoon entertaining the girls, had finally opened the newspaper he'd brought with him, only to fall into a doze behind it.
Edwina, the new puppy, was leaping about at Eleanor's feet, pouncing on a ball the girls had found for her, and Eleanor was rolling it gently along the cooling lawn, laughing fondly as the puppy tripped over her ears to fetch it back. She was teasing the little dog, lifting the ball just out of reach for the pleasure of seeing her balance on her hind legs, cycle her little paws in the air, and then snap at it with her teeth. They were sharp teeth. The puppy had already managed to tear holes in most of Eleanor's stockings. Darling little menace, she had a sixth sense for rooting out the things she shouldn't have, but it was impossible to be cross with her. She only had to look up with those big brown eyes and cock her head just so and Eleanor melted. She'd wanted a dog when she was a girl, but her mother had declared them "filthy beasts" and that was that.”
― Kate Morton, The Lake House

“Go For Dog Training provides you with the best and affordable Puppy Training agency near Washington. If you want Puppy Training agency, call us 07715389674 or visit our website.”
― Dog Training Sunderland - Go For Dog Training

“If a politician and a puppy participate the same election, you can be sure that the puppy will win the election because people will find it much more sincere!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

“Being haunted was kind of like having a puppy. You had to walk it, play with it, and leave the TV on so it wouldn’t get lonely. The only difference was that everyone wanted a puppy. Michael didn’t know anyone, except maybe Luke, who wanted a pet ghost.”
― Jacqueline E. Smith, After Death

“I scooped out the chilly, sleepy ball of puppy and held him to my chest, where he rooted toward the warmth beneath my arm.
"Thank you, Samuel," I whispered, which I know now was an utterly insufficient response. But Samuel seemed content. He bowed his head in a chivalrous, Old-World-ish gesture like a knight accepting his lady's favor, mounted his drooling pony, and disappeared across the misted grounds.
Now, let us clear the air: I am not a stupid girl. I realized the words I'd written in the ledger book were more than ink and cotton. They'd reached out into the world and twisted the shape it in some invisible and unknowable way that brought Samuel to stand beneath my window. But there was a more rational explanation available to me- that Samuel had seen the longing in my face and decided to hell with that bitter old German woman- and I chose to believe that instead.
But still: when I got to my room and settled the brown ball of fur in a nest of pillows, the first thing I did was trawl through my desk drawer for a pen. I found my copy of The Jungle Book, flipped to the blank pages at the back, and wrote: She and her dog were inseparable from that day forward.”
― Alix E. Harrow, The Ten Thousand Doors of January

“I'm FLUFFY like a nighttime sky puppy.”
― Sophie Corrigan, The Not Bad Animals

“RJ is standing there, and in his arms is a wriggling French bulldog puppy of the most inexplicable color, almost pale honeyed yellow tinged with a sort of peachy pink.
"Oh my goodness! Who are you?"
RJ hands me the pup, who immediately starts licking all over my face and biting my ponytail. Dumpling tries to stand on his one leg to see what is going on, and falls over at my feet. RJ scoops him up and puts him face-to-face with the puppy.
"Dumpling, there is someone we want you to meet. We thought you might want a little sister."
Dumpling looks at the puppy, who leans forward and licks his face. Dumpling licks back. The puppy sniffs his ear and then with one move, snatches the eye patch right off his head and starts to chew it. Dumpling looks at me with his one good eye, head cocked as if to say, "We're going to have our hands full with this one," and then turns and licks RJ under his chin.
"I can't believe you did this! You are so sneaky."
"Well, we did talk about wanting to do it, and a guy at work breeds them for showing, but this one is off the allowable color charts."
"She does have a certain, um... Well, she's kind of, um..."
"Pink? Yeah. Some weird anomaly, and apparently, not good for the show circuit."
"But good for us."
"That's what I thought."
"What should we call her?"
RJ smiles. "I was thinking Pamplemousse."
"Of course. What else could she be?”
― Stacey Ballis, Off the Menu

“He and Volnay are two shades of the same color, her deep auburn a complement to his brighter, brasher cinnamon. He has light hazel eyes, squished-up floppy ears, and a large square head atop a body that is built like a little tank. He looks a lot like a miniature orange mastiff. His paws are enormous. Not to mention some other obvious parts of his anatomy. This isn't going to be some elegant little thirty-pound girl. This is a serious BOY dog. And he's going to be HUGE.
But he does have the advantage of being a puppy, and all puppies are adorable so that you don't kill them. He's curled up in Benji's arms, licking his ear, and I can't help it, he is pretty goddamned cute. I'm in real trouble.”
― Stacey Ballis, Out to Lunch

“Chris looked at the dog, who has finished feasting on her foot and now comes to sit at his feet, looking up at him as if she expects him to do something. She's leggier than most classic English bulldogs, mostly a dark fawn color, but with a large white patch over one eye. She has those droopy bulldog eyes that can look, by turns, sad and judgmental. But now she stands and cocks her head and wags her tail, and Chris finds himself smiling, begrudgingly, and patting the sofa cushion Beth just vacated.
"All right, up you come." The dog hops up, and Chris begins scratching her behind one ear.
"You going to put up with me?" he asks. She grunts and leans into his hand.”
― Brianne Moore, All Stirred Up

“That first night, after she'd made sure the door was locked and turned out the lights, Diana climbed into the loft and got into bed. She could see Willa's silhouette below her, sitting on her haunches at the foot of the stairs. "Come on, girl, it's okay," she said, patting the bed, and Willa had gathered herself, trotting up the stairs and leaping onto the mattress, her tail rotating madly. She licked Diana's hand, sniffed her way around the perimeter of the bed, then turned herself around three times and curled up on her side, with her back against Diana's hip. Diana wrapped her arm around the dog's head, and Willa rested her muzzle on Diana's forearm. That was how they fell asleep.”
― Jennifer Weiner, That Summer

“Maxi Paton was not a rescue puppy, but Maxi needed to be saved.”
― Marion Kennedy

“Puppy! I am puppy! Puppy puppy puppy puppy puppy puppy puppy puppy puppy!”
― Phillip Andrew Bennett Low, Monsters in a Mirror: Strange Tales from the Chapel Perilous

“Master so stupid that he loves paper. Loves paper more than Brewder. Paper doesn't bite him. Paper doesn't play. Brewder is better than paper. Master needs to play. Play play play. Paper makes master sad. Brewder must rescue master.”
― Phillip Andrew Bennett Low, Monsters in a Mirror: Strange Tales from the Chapel Perilous

“Over good times, if I consider a dog to be less worthy of life than me, then all I have left to say is woof.

Separate heart from hierarchy.”
― Psixomaxaristw

“I needed the puppy. More to the point, I needed that puppy. Willow kept me connected to the world when I was tempted to give up on it. She seemed to know what I was thinking or was about to think. She followed me everywhere, her tail eager to wag, her pink tongue quick to loll with doggy laughter. If I went out without her, she knew the moment I turned for home, and waited by the door for me to appear. She filled the empty spaces of my life with her bright spirit and lively presence. I came to feel that she reflected me, in an uncanny way, as if she were the canine version of myself.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Witch's Kind