Hyper Dog Quotes

Sometimes you say things to your fear—things like It doesn’t matter, the words acting like pats on the head of a hyper dog.

Hello, freak,” Drake said. Lana backed away, but too late. Drake leveled his gun at her. “I’m right-handed. ’Least I used to be. But I can still hit you from this distance.” “What do you want?” Drake motioned toward the stump of his right arm. It was gone from just above the elbow. “What do you think I want?” The one time she’d seen Drake Merwin, he had made her think of Pack Leader: strong, hyper alert, dangerous. Now, the lean physique looked gaunt, the shark’s grin was a tight grimace, his eyes were red-rimmed. His stare, once languidly menacing, was now intense, burning hot. He looked like someone who had been tortured beyond endurance. “I’ll try,” Lana said. “You’ll do more than try,” he said. He convulsed in pain, face scrunched. A low, eerie moan escaped his throat. “I don’t know if I can grow a whole arm back,” Lana said. “Let me touch it.” “Not here,” he hissed. He motioned with his gun. “Through the back door.” “If you shoot me, I can’t help you,” Lana argued. “Can you heal dogs? How about if I blow his brains out? Can you heal that, freak?

We love dogs because they express so honestly and without dissimulation what we also are and want. They and other pets calm us because promote a kind of carelessness normal to animal life, unencumbered by thoughts of the past or worries about the future, none of which actually exist. Women are, in their natural state, close to this condition as well, or closer on the whole, which is where they get much of their charm and power from (the modern education, that teaches women to be hyper-aware, anxious for the future, abstract neurotics, etc., actually takes away their power to a great degree, while tricking them into thinking they are being tough or sassy; but a hyper-conscious woman is made powerless and charmless).

Hyper-aroused youth can look hyperactive or inattentive because what they are attending to is the teacher’s tone of voice or the other children’s body language, not the content of their lessons. The aggression and impulsivity that the fight or flight response provokes can also appear as defiance or opposition, when in fact it is the remnants of a response to some prior traumatic situation that the child has somehow been prompted to recall. The “freezing” response that the body makes when stressed—sudden immobility, like a deer caught in the headlights—is also often misinterpreted as defiant refusal by teachers because, when it occurs, the child literally cannot respond to commands. While not all ADD, hyperactivity and oppositional-defiant disorder are trauma-related, it is likely that the symptoms that lead to these diagnoses are trauma-related more often than anyone has begun to suspect.

Even without abstract thought or metaphysical theorizing, just standing on two legs and using clubs gave mankind more than enough skill to win the race for survival on earth. These other abilities aren’t that necessary. And in exchange for our hyper-capable cerebral cortexes, of necessity we have to give up lots of other physical abilities. For example, dogs have a sense of smell several thousand times better than humans, and a sense of hearing tens of times better. But we’re able to amass complex hypotheses. We’re able to compare and contrast the cosmos and the microcosmos, and appreciate Van Gogh and Mozart. We can read Proust—if you want to, that is—and collect Koimari porcelain and Persian rugs. Not something a dog can do.

When used naturally, the chase and capture/kill is relatively brief and followed by a long time relaxing, chewing and eating. When we manipulate this sequence with a ball launcher, we interrupt it and the dog gets the adrenaline rush of the chase over and over – but with no effective final chew and relax. This is why ball launchers can exacerbate hyper-arousal.

Dandelion Insomnia The big-ass bees are back, tipsy, sun drunk and heavy with thick knitted leg warmers of pollen. I was up all night again so today's yellow hours seem strange and hallucinogenic. The neighbourhood is lousy with mowers, crazy dogs, and people mending what winter ruined. What I can't get over is something simple, easy: How could a dandelion seed head seemingly grow overnight? A neighbour mows the lawn and bam, the next morning, there's a hundred dandelion seed heads straight as arrows and proud as cats high above any green blade of manicured grass. It must bug some folks, a flower so tricky it can reproduce asexually, making perfect identical selves, bam, another me, bam, another me, I can't help it - I root for that persecuted rosette so hyper in its own making it seems to devour the land. Even its name, translated from the French dent de lion, means lion's tooth. It's vicious, made for a time that requires tenacity, a way of remaking the toughest self while everyone else is asleep.

two-hundred of their closest friends and family were set to start arriving in just over an hour—and the dog looked content to nuzzle the pillow all afternoon. With its teeth. “Stop,” she said, in her most authoritative tone, putting her hand out. To Darcy’s surprise, the dog stopped. Her snout going into hyper-sniffer mode, she dropped the

No response came, which just proved what Jonah had always suspected: Red favored the boy over him. Jonah had known Red longer, but Cas had been his beloved protégé almost from the start, when his eyes had gone wide and dizzy the first time Red showed him his lair. “He peed in a potted plant. Killed my dog. Set fire to the embassy,” Jonah fired off in monotone. Finally, Red swiveled around to face him and folded his arms over his chest with a slow blink. “You don’t have a dog.” As if that was the most unbelievable of the three statements. “I could have a dog. You’d have no idea shut up in here like a hermit all day.” Red snorted. “Dogs are for humans with souls. You could have a cat, maybe.” He narrowed his eyes, like he wasn’t quite convinced that was a possibility, either. But Jonah grinned because now he’d gotten Red’s attention. “Caspian is a dog person,” he mused. “Definitely a dog person.” “Golden retriever?” Red seesawed his hand, face bunching up. “I could see it, I guess. Or maybe a greyhound. Hyper and quick, like him.

Dogs are the best. Hey, that’s another way Shaggy reminds me of Brewer. They’re both hyper little psychos sometimes, but secretly, they love to just chill on the couch and be lazy all day.

BlockChalk is a virtual community bulletin board for neighborhoods in nearly nine thousand cities. In function, it is like a hyper-local version of Twitter. From your cell phone, you can leave a message for someone on your block or street, whether it is to report something you found, announce something happening in your neighborhood, ask to borrow an item, warn people of something to watch out for, or just chat. A typical “chalk” (BlockChalks’s word for a message) reads, “Found dog while running last night @River Bank De & Poppy Way in Edgewater . . . Please post on here if he’s yours, or you know who he belongs to.” It was created by Josh Whiting, who was formerly a senior engineer for craigslist and Del.icio.us, to make it easy for neighbors to interact with each other. Recognizing that some users will want to keep their identity and location anonymous, you can reply privately or respond publicly, “chalkback.

DANDELION INSOMNIA The big-ass bees are back, tipsy, sun drunk and heavy with thick knitted leg warmers of pollen. I was up all night again so today’s yellow hours seem strange and hallucinogenic. The neighborhood is lousy with mowers, crazy dogs, and people mending what winter ruined. What I can’t get over is something simple, easy: How could a dandelion seed head seemingly grow overnight? A neighbor mows the lawn and bam, the next morning, there’s a hundred dandelion seed heads straight as arrows and proud as cats high above any green blade of manicured grass. It must bug some folks, a flower so tricky it can reproduce asexually, making perfect identical selves, bam, another me, bam, another me. I can’t help it—I root for that persecuted rosette so hyper in its own making it seems to devour the land. Even its name, translated from the French dent de lion, means lion’s tooth. It’s vicious, made for a time that requires tenacity, a way of remaking the toughest self while everyone else is asleep.