Quotes & Sayings About Dog Paws

When he reached the yard, he found Edward with Addie and her dog under a redwood tree. She was lying on her back with her slippers resting on the trunk. Edward's head was on her stomach, and the dog lay with its head on its paws. Her hair hung from its pins, and his eyes traced the silken strands looped on the grass. "My nymph," he said. She jerked to an upright position and began tucking her hair back into its proper position. Though she sprang to her feet, bits of mud and grass clung to her skirt as a reminder of the unladylike position in which he'd found her. His smile broadened. — Colleen Coble

I have a heart!"
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do," he says. "Look, I'll prove it to you." He reaches into the tub and wraps his arms around Hector, suds and all. "Oooh," he says in a baby voice. "Ooooh, Hector, you're such a good boy, oooh, I love you, Hector."
Hector's tail immediately starts wagging, and he pushes his snout into Jace's face and starts licking it. "Oh, Hector, you're so sweet," Jace says. "You're just the best dog."
Hector moves and Jace's elbows slip, causing Jace's whole upper body to slide over the side and into the tub. For a second, everyone freezes. I'm afraid Jace is going to be mad, since now he's soaking wet, but instead he just says, "Oooh, Hector, that's okay," and then slides his whole body into the tub, clothes and all.
Hector gives a happy bark, glad to have a friend with him, and then plants his front paws on Jace's chest. — Lauren Barnholdt

I look down at my black Diablo, head on his paws. He is at my feet. He knows that he must trust to my forgiveness for his daily meat. So he wags his plumed tail and noses at my foot and I pat him gently. Affection, I tell him, is how a dog survives. Knowing how to exist without it is how a woman wrests her life into her own hands. But then it comes, it takes one by surprise. Affection and freedom and the will to risk. Everything that happened since I answered the door to Fleur was leading up to this. — Louise Erdrich

Win was flabbergasted when he heard me say to the dog: We don't put our paws on the table while folks are eating, Manch. — Katherine Paterson

Dogs possess a quality that's rare among humans
the ability to make you feel valued just by being you
and it was something of a miracle to me to be on the receiving end of all that acceptance. The dog didn't care what I looked like, or what I did for a living, or what a train wreck of a life I'd led before I got her, or what we did from day to day. She just wanted to be with me, and that awareness gave me a singular sensation of delight. I kept her in a crate at night until she was housebroken, and in the mornings I'd let her up onto the bed with me. She'd writhe with joy at that. She'd wag her tail and squirm all over me, lick my neck and face and eyes and ears, get her paws all tangled in my braid, and I'd just lie there, and I'd feel those oceans of loss from my past ebbing back, ebbing away, and I'd hear myself laugh out loud. — Caroline Knapp

In build and coat and brush he was a huge timber-wolf; but the lie was given to his wolf-hood by his color and marking. There the dog unmistakably advertised itself. No wolf was ever colored like him. He was brown, deep brown, red-brown, an orgy of browns. Back and shoulders were a warm brown that paled on the sides and underneath to a yellow that was dingy because of the brown that lingered in it. The white of the throat and paws and the spots over the eyes was dirty because of the persistent and ineradicable brown, while the eyes themselves were twin topazes, golden and brown. — Jack London

Like a bullet out of a gun. His big paws had caught the dog before the dog could even flinch. — Michael Grant

Our house was always filled with dogs ... They helped make our house a kennel, it is true, but the constant patter of their filthy paws and the dreadful results of their brainless activities have warmed me throughout the years. — Helen Hayes

Poetry Is a Destructive Force
That's what misery is,
Nothing to have at heart.
It is to have or nothing.
It is a thing to have,
A lion, an ox in his breast,
To feel it breathing there.
Corazon, stout dog,
Young ox, bow-legged bear,
He tastes its blood, not spit.
He is like a man
In the body of a violent beast.
Its muscles are his own ...
The lion sleeps in the sun.
Its nose is on its paws.
It can kill a man. — Wallace Stevens

Will we have pets?" I bite back the question regarding kids. While this might be a fun fantasy, imagining being responsible for something like that is terrifying.
"Sure." Noah stays near the fire on one bent knee and occasionally pokes it to keep the dwindling flames alive. "I had a dog once."
"What type?"
"A mix of some sort. Part Lab, part something smaller than Lab. Its paws were too big for its body, so it skidded across the kitchen floor."
"Is that what you want?"
"If we're going to live alone on a mountain, we need a guard dog. A German shepherd. Something like that."
"Guard dog?" Not what I had in mind for the fantasy. "We need something cute and cuddly." I squish my fingers in the air as if I have the little puff ball in my hands. "It can sleep in our bed."
"No fucking way, Echo. I'm not sharing my bed with a dog. — Katie McGarry

In his essay,Agastya had said that his real ambition was to be a domesticated male stray dog because they lived the best life.They were assured of food,and because they were stray they didn't have to guard a house or beg or shake paws or fetch trifles or be clean or anything similarly meaningless to earn their food.They were servile and sycophantic when hungry;once fed,and before sleep,they wagged their tails perfunctorily whenever their hosts passes,as an investment for future meals.A stray dog was free,he slept a lot,barked unexpectedly and only when he wanted to,and got a lot of sex. — Upamanyu Chatterjee

Her mother had smelled of cold and scales, her father of stone dust and dog. She imagined her husband's mother, whom she had never met, had a whiff of rotting apples, though her stationary had stunk of baby powder and rose perfume. Sally was starch, cedar, her dead grandmother sandalwood, her uncle, swiss cheese. People told her she smelled like garlic, like chalk, like nothing at all. Lotto, clean as camphor at his neck and belly, like electrified pennies at the armpit, like chlorine at the groin. She swallowed. Such things, details noticed only on the edges of thought would not return.
'Land,' Mathilde said, 'odd name for a guy like you.'
'Short for Roland,' the boy said.
Where the August sun had been steaming over the river, a green cloud was forming. It was still terrifically hot, but the birds had stopped singing. A feral cat scooted up the road on swift paws. It would rain soon.
'Alright Roland,' Mathilde said, suppressing as sigh, 'sing your song. — Lauren Groff

When a dog is really comfortable, they give off a certain scent and you can smell it on their paws. — Booboo Stewart

Dear brother,
I feel what Pa and Ma instinctively think about me (I don't say reasonably).
There's a similar reluctance about taking me into the house as there would be about having a large, shaggy dog in the house. He'll come into the room with wet paws - and then, he's so shaggy. He'll get in everyone's way. And he barks so loudly.
In short - it's a dirty animal.
Very well - but the animal has a human history and, although it's a dog, a human soul, and one with finer feelings at that, able to feel what people think about him, which an ordinary dog can't do.
And I, admitting that I am a sort of dog, accept them as they are.
Vincent van Gogh to his brother Theo, Nuenen, 15 December 1883 — Vincent Van Gogh

She has never messed up a single take yet. Recently I was in a scene and there was a table covered with a cloth. When the director said cut, I saw a black nose and two paws inching out from under the cloth. She had hidden there without making a sound until we were done with the scene. She wanted to be nearer to me. — Jack Lemmon

LITTLE DOGS RHAPSODY IN THE NIGHT (PERCY THREE) He puts his cheek against mine and makes small, expressive sounds. And when I'm awake, or awake enough he turns upside down, his four paws in the air and his eyes dark and fervent. Tell me you love me, he says. Tell me again. Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Over and over he gets to ask it. I get to tell. — Mary Oliver

Toby placed his front paws on the track, looked up at Ian, and whined.

"What in hell are you wearing, big man?" he asked, staring down at the dog.

"It's his sweater."

"That's a terrible thing to do to a noble beast," Ian muttered, grabbing the sweater by the hem and pulling it up over Toby's head.

-Ian and Jessie — Janet Chapman

Her father had taught her about hands. About a dog's paws. Whenever her father was alone with a dog in a house he would lean over and smell the skin at the base of its paw. This, he would say, as if coming away from a brandy snifter, is the greatest smell in the world! A bouquet! Great rumours of travel! She would pretend disgust, but the dog's paw was a wonder: the smell of it never suggested dirt. It's a cathedral! her father had said, so-and-so's garden, that field of grasses, a walk through cyclamen
a concentration of hints of all the paths the animal had taken during the day. — Michael Ondaatje

A silence, the brief Sabbath of an hour,
Reigns o'er the fields; the laborer sits within
His dwelling; he has left his steers awhile,
Unyoked, to bite the herbage, and his dog
Sleeps stretched beside the door-stone in the shade.
Now the gray marmot, with uplifted paws,
No more sits listening by his den, but steals
Abroad, in safety, to the clover-field,
And crops its juicy-blossoms. — William C. Bryant

You left the door open."
"Fritz is bringing me some smokes."
"You're not lighting up around my dog"
( ... )
V looked over at the dog. George's big boxy head was down on his paws, his kind brown eyes seeming to apologize for the shutdown on the whole light-up routine.
Vishous stroked the bag of Turkish delicious like a pathetic loser. "Mind if I just rolled up a couple?"
"One flick on the flint and I'll pound you into the carpet. — J.R. Ward

For one brief, the great black dog reared onto its hind legs and placed its front paws on Harry's shoulders, but Mrs. Weasley shoved Harry away toward the train door hissing, For heaven's sake act more like a dog, Sirius! — J.K. Rowling

A dog can be a living work of art, a constant reminder of the exquisite design and breathtaking detail of nature, beauty on four paws. — Dean Koontz

In front of the restaurant, on the side walk, just like in the movie, someone outlined a heart when the cement was wet and there are two sets of dog paws. To the left of the restaurant is a sign for the Chapeau shop that features a hat box exactly like the one that little Lady was in at the beginning of the film. Details like these enhance the overall experience for sharp-eyed guests. — Jim Korkis

I thought you didn't like animals."
"I love animals. Where did you get that idea?" Marmie put her paws on his leg, and he picked her up.
"From my dog?"
"That's a dog? Jeez, I'm sorry. I thought it was an industrial-waste accident." His long, lean fingers slid through the cat's fur.
"Slytherin." She slapped the lid back onto the flour container. What kind of man liked a cat more than he liked an exceptionally fine French poodle?
"What did you call me?"
"It's a literary reference. You wouldn't understand."
"Harry Potter. And I don't appreciate name calling. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

If only it was an island rather than a pretty sleeping dog with sand on its paws and cliffs on its shoulders, waiting to wake it up and tear it. — Kendare Blake

They told me the first mourner to come was the dog. He came uninvited, and stood up on his hind legs and rested his fore paws upon the trestle, and took a last long look at the face that was so dear to him, then went his way as silently as he had come. HE KNOWS. — Mark Twain

It was a dog. Or several dogs rolled, as it were, into one. There were four legs, and they were nearly all the same length although not, Agnes noted, all the same color. There was one head, although the left ear was black and pointed while the right ear was brown and white and flopped. It was a very enthusiastic animal in the department of slobber. "Thith ith Thcrapth," said Igor, fighting to get to his feet in a hail of excited paws. "He'th a thilly old thing." "Scraps ... yes," said Nanny. "Good name. Good name." "He'th theventy-eight yearth old," said Igor, leading the way down a winding staircase. "Thome of him. — Terry Pratchett

When they are away, you will often look for the baby doll, but it is not always there, where it is supposed to be, where you left it. Sometimes The Baby moves it, or she takes it with her, and you have to settle for some other toy. You bring it into the living room and set it between your paws as you sleep. It helps you believe that one day you might be a real mother. — Terry Bain

Why hello!" she said, and the dog jumped and pressed its front paws against her knees, then actually licked her with a dry, paper tongue. Ceony laughed and scratched behind its ears. It panted with excitement. "Wherever did you come from?"
The door squeaked again, announcing Mg. Thane's arrival. He looked a little tired, but no worse for wear, and still wore that long indigo coat. "This one won't give me hives," he said with a smile that beamed in his eyes. "It's not the same, but I thought it would do, for now."
Wide-eyed, Ceony slowly stood, the paper dog yapping in its whispery voice and nudging her ankles with its muzzle. "You made this?" she asked, feeling her ribs knit over her lungs. "This . . . this is what you were doing last night?"
He scratched the back of his head. "Were you up? I apologize - I'm not used to having others in the house again. — Charlie N. Holmberg