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No man can fully understand the meaning of love unless he’s owned by a dog.
Oct 1, 2025
If you have a dog, you will most likely outlive it; to get a dog is to open yourself to profound joy and, prospectively, to equally profound sadness.
Shall we, because we walk on our hind feet, assume to ourselves only the privilege of imperishability?
Dogs have a way of finding the people who need them, Filling an emptiness we don't even know we have.
No one can fully understand the meaning of love unless he's owned a dog. A dog can show you more honest affection with a flick of his tail than a man can gather through a lifetime of handshakes.
Dogs come into our lives to teach us about love and loyalty. They depart to teach us about loss. A new dog never replaces an old dog; it merely expands the heart. If you have loved many dogs, your heart is very big.
That one true heart was left behind! What feeling do we ever find, to equal among human kind , a dog's fidelity!
A new dog never replaces an old dog, it merely expands the heart.
Few human beings give of themselves to another as a dog gives of itself.
There is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and woman to fill our day; But when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always arrange for more? Brothers & Sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Sometimes losing a pet is more painful than losing a human because in the case of the pet, you were not pretending to love it.
The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so soon. But, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years and then died, what would become of me?
Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives.
Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.
God's finger touched him, and he slept.
What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me... whenever... wherever-in case I need him. And I expect I will-as I always have. He is just my dog.
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
I came across a photograph of him not long ago... his black face, the long snout sniffing at something in the air, his tail straight and pointing, his eyes flashing in some momentary excitement. Looking at a faded photograph taken more than forty years before, even as a grown man, I would admit I still missed him.
You gain strength, courage, and confidence by doing the thing which you think you cannot do.
The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.
Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.
Dogs' lives are too short. Their only fault, really.
No matter how little money and how few possesions you own, having a dog makes you rich.
We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own, live within a fragile circle; easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we would still live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan.
A good dog never dies. He always stays. He walks besides you on crisp autumn days when frost is on the fields and winter's drawing near. His head is within our hand in his old way.
Near this spot are deposited the remains of one who possessed beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of man, without his vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just tribute to the memory of Botswain, a dog.
If there is a heaven, it's certain our animals are to be there. Their lives become so interwoven with our own, it would take more than an archangel to detangle them.
To call him a dog hardly seems to do him justice, though inasmuch as he had four legs, a tail, and barked, I admit he was, to all outward appearances. But to those who knew him well, he was a perfect gentleman.
For those who love dogs, it would be the worst form of a lie to call any place where dogs were banned "Paradise." Certainly no loving God would separate people from their canine friends for eternity.
If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain dogs I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons.
You think dogs will not be in heaven? I tell you, they will be there long before any of us.
Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.
Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet.
If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans.
He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion. Our dogs will love and admire the meanest of us, and feed our colossal vanity with their uncritical homage.
Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.
The great pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself too.
A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than you love yourself.
Animals are such agreeable friends - they ask no questions; they pass no criticisms.
Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty.
Until one has loved an animal a part of one's soul remains unawakened.
There is no death, only a change of worlds.
To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring - it was peace.
If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.
Death ends a life, not a relationship.
I have sometimes thought of the final cause of dogs having such short lives and I am quite satisfied it is in compassion to the human race; for if we suffer so much in losing a dog after an acquaintance of ten or twelve years, what would it be if they were to live double that time?
The dog of your boyhood teaches you a great deal about friendship, and love, and death: Old Skip was my brother. They had buried him under our elm tree, they said-yet this wasn't totally true. For he really lay buried in my heart.