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You could only draw conclusions about my personal sexual politics if you proceed from the assumption that I was presenting the characters as the way it is and the way it ought to be. But both are clearly defined as deranged – it’s love among the mad. He’s a psycopath, so is she. She’s prepared to throw him to the dogs until he works out the code, he’s prepared to let her nearly get executed. They’re not really going to buy a house and a Volvo together. I’m not saying this is how people should date!
I grew up in a home where animals were ever-present and often dominated our lives. There were always horses, dogs, and cats, as well as a revolving infirmary of injured wildlife being nursed by my sister the aspiring vet. Without any conscious intention on my part, animals come to play a significant role in my fiction: in Three Junes, a parrot and a pack of collies; in The Whole World Over, a bulldog named The Bruce. To dog lovers, by the way, I recommend My Dog Tulip by J. R. Ackerley -- by far the best 'animal book' I've ever read.
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.
Dogs, like very small children, are quite mad.
I don't believe anything can do as much for a room as a glowing fire in an attractive fireplace. Men and dogs love an open fire - they show good sense. It is the heart of any room and should be kindled on the slightest provocation.
Many times I have thanked God for a bite of raw dog.
First, there was 2 Stupid Dogs. Then, Dexters Laboratory. And now, Powerpuff Girls. There were a lot of little things in between, but those were the main ones.
Like dogs who sniff each other when meeting, chess players have a ritual at first acquaintance: they sit down to play speed chess.
My dogs have never been good at things like "sit," "stay," or even "come." I think that we've given the tourists a few laughs, especially when the dogs hit the end of their leashes hard enough to drag Gloria down the street.
The dog, on the other hand, has few or no ideas because his brain acts in coarse fashion and because there are few connections with each single process.
Though he had very little Latin beyond "Cave canem," he had, as a young dog, devoured Shakespeare (in a tasty leather binding).
I have a spaniel that defrocked a nun last week. He took hold of the cord. I had hold of the leash. It was like elephants holding tails. Imagine me undressing a nun, even second hand.
My dog watches me on TV. So, if I may take this opportunity, "No! No! No!"
The dog is almost human in its demand for living interest, yet fatally less than human in its inability to foresee.
The dog lives for the day, the hour, even the moment.
Because of Diamond, I have had to begin much of the work afresh. I will not, however, rid myself of her, nor even punish her. She knew not what she was doing, and that which she did was for my protection and for love of my person. Her place remains at my side or against my feet when I lie abed.
Dogs are not people dressed up in fur coats, and to deny them their nature is to do them great harm.
When the dog is repeatedly teased with the sight of objects inducing salivary secretion from a distance, the reaction of the salivary glands grows weaker and weaker and finally drops to zero.
Most owners are at length able to teach themselves to obey their dog.
Show me a dog who still cannot perform a task after it has been trained over and over again, and I'll tell you who the slow learner is.
Humans have externalized their wisdom-stored it in museums, libraries, the expertise of the learned. Dog wisdom is inside the blood and bones.
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