Smudge Quotes

“Some people would say it's a bad idea to bring a fire-spider into a public library. Those people would probably be right, but it was better than leaving him alone in the house for nine hours straight. The one time I tried, Smudge had expressed his displeasure by burning through the screen that covered his tank, burrowing into my laundry basket, and setting two weeks' worth of clothes ablaze.”
― Jim C. Hines, Libriomancer

“It was all black, except for the bottoms of its front feet and from the top of its eyes down past its nose to its neck, where its fur turned golden. Its eyes shone black, a dog's eyes except for the slight points on its pupils. Its tail was missing, although its hips shook in a pantomime of wagging. Delicately, it laid its gold paws next to her shoulder. A pink tongue darted out of its lips and licked her chin.
"I would not be surprised if it stayed in that form even after it recovers its strength. It appears happy enough," Thornwood said. "It managed to enchant your Mr. Hobb where I failed."
Mouse lifted her fingers to its jaw, and it leaned into her touch. The texture of its fur did not change from the gold fur to the black, although Mouse could not help wincing at the memory of burned silk and scales.
"Smudge," she said. It licked her fingers.
"Oh, you've named it already," Thornwood sighed. "Mickelwaithe said you might. I must warn you not to get too attached. Dragons are mercurial— this one might fly away at a shift in the wind."
"I'm glad. She suffered too long in that room. She deserves freedom."
"She?"
Mouse nodded solemnly, her fingers finding a good scratching point on the dog's shoulder. Smudge let out a cheerful bark and sank onto her stomach, her back legs sticking out straight behind her and her head balanced on her front legs.
Thornwood settled in his chair with the book propped open in his lap. "Do not blame me if it starts coughing up fireballs on your bedspread."
"Don't listen to the rude Faerie, Smudge.”
― Moorea Corrigan, Thistlemarsh

“Who is this?” John asked, bending down to the dog’s level. She nuzzled his hand, chirping as he scratched behind her ears.
“Her name is Smudge.”
“Would Smudge like a delicious cut of ham?” John asked, his voice taking on the wobbly quality he always adopted around animals, even his bees. The dragon-dog bounced merrily in place, happy to play along.
After toweling off, they took seats in John’s kitchen. He placed a plate covered with a thick slice of ham on the ground. Smudge lay down next to it and chewed on one side slowly, savoring the salt for as long as she could.
“What a well-behaved little lady,” he said, scratching between her ears. Smudge preened. Mouse knelt, taking up John’s scratching as he moved back to the stove.
“You love this attention,” she said quietly. Smudge smiled, her teeth more dragon than dog.”
― Moorea Corrigan, Thistlemarsh

“The dragon-dog let out a wheezy bark. A puff of smoke billowed out from behind her teeth. Mouse bumped Smudge's nose with the tip of her finger. "None of that, please. I think we've had enough surprises lately.”
― Moorea Corrigan, Thistlemarsh