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No man can fully understand the meaning of love unless he’s owned by a dog.
Sep 29, 2025
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.
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.
What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
The bond with a dog is as lasting as the ties of this earth can ever be.
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.
He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant.
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Dogs love their friends and bite their enemies, quite unlike people, who are incapable of pure love and always have to mix love and hate.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
When you are sorrowful, look again.
When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there, I did not die.
The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master.
I guess you don't really own a dog, you rent them, and you have to be thankful that you had a long lease.
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.
Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.
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.
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.
The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven not man's.
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.
There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats.
Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.
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.
Until one has loved an animal a part of one's soul remains unawakened.
When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself.
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?
He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds. He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being; by the way he rests against my leg; by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.)
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.
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