Pug Love Quotes

As a wise Pug once said, all you need is love, kibble and a de-worming tablet every three to six months.

You are a pug! Master of the universe! King of the curly tails! You can do anything! You can lick your own nose, for goodness sake.

A stampede of footsteps came pounding up, accompanied by the yodeling howls of two very excited pugs. They loved drama like blonde haired sorority sisters.

If you would like to imagine the birth of the mighty National Security Agency, please visualize two men in a small room, one with a pug nose, pecking at a typewriter, the other a dandy in a suit and bow tie, smoking a pipe, wondering what his wife was up to at home, and if she was missing him.

He projected confidence and strength and had the air of a person who had it all together. But I thought he looked like an uptight hobo and felt the deep loathing that can sometimes coexist with profound love. I could feel my chest tightening. I stretched across the wide seat and reached for his hand.

Train those around you well, Pug. Make them powerful, but make them loving, generous men and women as well.

A little jealousy will work wonders with that boy: he has been too sure of you! I must tell you, my love, that these Verelsts are all the same! Like Pug there! Let no one seem to wish to touch his bone, and ten to one he will not look at it. Lay but a finger on it, and all at once he knows that there is nothing he wants more in the world, and he will snarl, and show his teeth, and stand guard over it with all his bristles on end! I am determined that if Anthony comes to look for you, he shall find you living in tolerable comfort without him.

Of course, people find beauty in things without wet noses, too. But there is something unique about the ways in which we fall in love with animals. Unwieldy dogs and minuscule dogs and long-haired and sleek dogs, snoring Saint Bernards, asthmatic pugs, unfolding shar-peis, and depressed-looking basset hounds - each with devoted fans. Bird-watchers spend frigid mornings scanning skies and scrub for the feathered objects of their fascination. Cat lovers display an intensity lacking - thank goodness - in most human relationships. Children’s books are constellated with rabbits and mice and bears and caterpillars, not to mention spiders, crickets, and alligators. Nobody ever had a plush toy shaped like a rock, and when the most enthusiastic stamp collector refers to loving stamps, it is an altogether different kind of affection.

As Marlboro Man slid open the huge barn doors and flipped on the enormous lights mounted to the beams, my heart began beating quickly. I couldn’t wait to smell its puppy breath. “Happy wedding,” he said sweetly, leaning against the wall of the barn and motioning toward the center with his eyes. My eyes adjusted to the light…and slowly focused on what was before me. It wasn’t a pug. It wasn’t a diamond or a horse or a shiny gold bangle…or even a blender. It wasn’t a love seat. It wasn’t a lamp. Sitting before me, surrounded by scattered bunches of hay, was a bright green John Deere riding lawn mower--a very large, very green, very mechanical, and very diesel-fueled John Deere riding lawn mower. Literally and figuratively, crickets chirped in the background of the night. And for the hundredth time since our engagement, the reality of the future for which I’d signed up flashed in front of me. I felt a twinge of panic as I saw the tennis bracelet I thought I didn’t want go poof, disappearing completely into the ether. Would this be how presents on the ranch would always be? Does the world of agriculture have a different chart of wedding anniversary presents? Would the first anniversary be paper…or motor oil? Would the second be cotton or Weed Eater string? I would add this to the growing list of things I still needed to figure out.

You did not do my homework assignment for me,” he said, grabbing the collage again and looking it over. “I had insomnia,” I said. “I needed a creative activity.” Marlboro Man looked at me, seemingly unsure of whether to kiss me, thank me…or just tickle me some more. I didn’t give him a chance. Instead I picked up the collage and took Marlboro Man on a tour so he’d be prepared for our appointment. “Here’s a pack of cigarettes,” I said. “Because I used to smoke in college.” “Uh-huh,” he answered. “I knew that.” “And here’s a glass of white wine,” I continued. “Because…I love white wine.” “Yes, I’ve noticed,” Marlboro Man answered. “But…won’t Father Johnson have a problem with that being on there?” “Nah…,” I said. “He’s Episcopalian.” “Got it,” he said. I continued with my collage orientation, pointing out the swatch of my favorite shade of turquoise…the pug…the ballet shoe…the Hershey’s Kiss. He watched and listened intently, prepping himself for Father Johnson’s upcoming grilling. Gradually the earliness of the morning and the cozy warmth of my bedroom got the better of us, and before we knew it we’d sunk into the irresistible softness of my bed, our arms and legs caught in a tangled maze. “I think I love you,” his raspy voice whispered, his lips nearly touching my ear. His arms wrapped even more tightly around my body, swallowing me almost completely.

knew that she was picturing the lonely dogs at the shelter. She felt her own eyes fill up. Lizzie could remember so many times when she had left the shelter at the end of the day feeling so, so sorry for all the dogs she could not take home with her. But then Aunt Amanda shook her head. “Still, I just can’t let Pugsley drive all the other dogs crazy. Did you see him stealing everybody’s toys last time you were here? He kept stashing them over behind the slide. There must have been ten toys over there by the end of the day!” Lizzie nodded. “I saw,” she said. She had also seen Max and another dog, Ruby, sniffing all over, looking for their toys. Mr. Pest was a troublemaker, no doubt about it. But still. Pugsley was just a puppy. And he didn’t know any better because nobody had ever taught him the right way to behave. Maybe she, Lizzie, could help Pugsley become a dog that somebody would be happy to own. “What if I tried to train him a little bit, during the days when I’m here?” she asked Aunt Amanda. Aunt Amanda shook her head. “I think Ken is serious about giving him up,” she said. “Pugsley won’t be coming here anymore.” She put her hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “I know you care,” she said. “So do I. But there’s really nothing we can do. Let’s go see what everybody’s up to. I think it’s time for some outdoor play.” Lizzie tried to smile. She loved taking the dogs outside to the fenced play yard out in back. “Can Pugsley come?” she asked. “Of course!” Aunt Amanda smiled back. “What fun would it be without Mr. Pest?” Then her smile faded. Lizzie knew what Aunt Amanda was thinking. And she agreed. Bowser’s Backyard just would not be the same without Pugsley around. Yes, it would be calmer. But it would not be as much fun. Aunt Amanda was right. “She’s right, isn’t she, Mr. Pest?” Lizzie said, when she found the pug in the nap room. He was quiet for once, curled up with Hoss on the bottom bunk. They looked so cute together! Lizzie sat down for a moment to pat the tiny pug and the gigantic Great Dane. They made such a funny pair! Aunt Amanda had told Lizzie that when she first opened Bowser’s Backyard she thought it would be a good idea to separate the big dogs from the little ones. But the dogs wanted to be together! They whined at the gates that kept them apart until Aunt Amanda gave up and let them all mingle. From then on, big dogs and little dogs wrestled, played, and napped together

— Яка ж ця дійсна мораль? — Така, Олександро Михайлівно, яка не потребує ні заповідей, ні людських законів, ні тюрем, ні панів адвокатів; така, на підставі якої мати любить своїх дітей, мужчину тягне до женщини, і навпаки; на підставі якої ми живемо громадою, а не поодиноко, на підставі якої революціонер іде на смертну кару… Хиба є заповідь: «Мати хай любить свою дитину»?! Або: «Забороняється жити поодиноко»?! В таких заповідях немає ніякої потреби, бо це є вищі заповіді, яких нарушення далеко краще, ніж у людських, передбачив вищий закон природи. Там немає присудів «по снисхожденію». Винен і край! ... Уявіть: ви мати, ви маєте діти, частинки вашої істоти, що таємним, дивним способом продовжують ваше життя. Та не тільки ваше, а всього людства. Та це ж непохитний, абсолютний закон природи! Хай загинуть усі людські закони, всі правила, заповіді; хай щезне культура, слово, думка, а цей закон існуватиме, поки буде на світі хоч одна пара людей! І бійтесь нарушити цей закон, Олександро Михайлівно! Життя багато прощає, але цього не прощає ніколи. І ви мусите його виконати! Так, мусите, Олександро Михайлівно! Мусите відкинути дурні моралі і сказати собі: хочу бути матіррю, хочу передати в будуче переданий мені з минулого тисячеліттями святий вогонь. Чи «законний», чи «незаконний», свій, чи чужий, але в мене мусить бути чоловік, вільно вибраний мною, батько моїх дітей, стародавній, споконвічний приятель і товариш мій. От як вам треба говорити! І власне, вам, бо ви можете вибірати, бо ви гарні, розумні, незалежні. ... Що ж таке моральність? Моральність це рожева пудра на законах природи. Шапочка вважає неморальним боронити Кубешку. Але боронити закони сильних і пануючих — річ нормальна й моральна, бо вона санкціонована тисячолітньою верствою пудри — пануючою мораллю. Чоловіка своєї сестри, який служить у банку, де робляться ріжні шахрайські операції, який годується з цих операцій і, мабуть, сам бере в них участь, — вона й обнімає, й цілує. Сотням шахраїв, паразитів, грабіжників, але припудрених їхнім законом, вона подає руку. А одному через щось висловлює огиду та зневагу. Через те припудрені так гаряче й боронять пудру, яка помагає їм тримати дурнів у руках. Моральність — це стіна, яку вивели припудрені між основними законами життя й вищим його проявом — розумом. Увесь моральний поступ людськости є в тому, що люде по камінчику стараються знищити цю свою власну стіну. Але припудрені, з свого боку, дбайливо бережуть її, при чому їм ретельно допомагають дурні, яких вони доять. У моральному розумінні соціялізм є скасування стіни, приведення людини до вищої, природної одности, є поєднання законів природи з розумом. Але з яким трагікомічним старанням багато сучасних соціялістів підтримує цілість стіни припудрених! ... — А що таке «чесність», «нечесність»? Плід людської глупоти, лицемірства й поганого соціяльного ладу… ... Все дурниця: і мораль, і кохання, й життя, є тільки — сам біль. Та ще хиба смерть. Через кілька десятків літ і я, й Шапочка, й міліони чесних і нечесних, розумних і дурних, рабів і панів, усі будемо лежати в землі і гнити. Чи варто ж ради такої коротенької хвилини хвилюватися, соромитись, виправдуватись? Рятуйся, хто може! От єдиний справедливий закон! ... Як це погано, паршивенько, шаблонно: коли мужчину образить кохана жінка, він починає пити й виробляти бешкети; коли жінка ображена, вона зараз же спішить зрадити його з иншим мужчиною.

Not so fast,” said Kato, eyeing EJ suspiciously and ignoring Pickles’s harrumphing protest. “You’re looking a little too chipper for a pug who hates wearing suits and premiere parties. So what’s with the smile?" "And why shouldn’t I be chipper? It’s a beautiful night, and the air is resplendent with love," said EJ, dressed in a dark gray Calvin Klein. (A B+ by red-carpet standards. Let’s face it, EJ’s goo just wasn’t made for skinny pants.) --Kato and the Fountain of Wrinkles, Rhys Ella, Copyright 2014.

There is about our house a need. The running, pulsating restlessness of the four boys as they struggle to learn and grow; the world embraces them….All this wonder needs a counterpart. We need some starched crisp frocks to go with all our torn-kneed blue jeans and helmets. We need some soft blond hair to off-set those crew cuts. We need a doll house to stand firm against our forts and rackets and thousand baseball cards. We need a cut-out star to play alone while the others battle to see who’s ‘family champ.’ We even need someone…who could sing the descant to “Alouette,” while outside they scramble to catch the elusive ball aimed ever roofward, but usually thudding against the screens. We need a legitimate Christmas angel—one who doesn’t have cuffs beneath the dress. We need someone who’s afraid of frogs. We need someone to cry when I get mad—not argue. We need a little one who can kiss without leaving egg or jam or gum. We need a girl. We had one once—she’d fight and cry and play and make her way just like the rest. But there was about her a certain softness. She was patient—her hugs were just a little less wiggly. Like them, she’d climb in to sleep with me, but somehow she’d fit. She didn’t boot and flip and wake me up with pug nose and mischievous eyes a challenging quarter-inch from my sleeping face. No—she’d stand beside our bed till I felt her there. Silently and comfortable, she’d put those precious, fragrant locks against my chest and fall asleep. Her peace made me feel strong, and so very important. “My Daddy” had a caress, a certain ownership which touched a slightly different spot than the “Hi Dad” I love so much. But she is still with us. We need her and yet we have her. We can’t touch her, and yet we can feel her. We hope she’ll stay in our house for a long, long time. Love Pop

— Через що інтеліґентні люде не вживають розуму на щонебудь инше, як принципіяльні суперечки та голі теорії? Наприклад, така річ, як шлюб. Як шаблонно, без розуму і, в суті, жахливо складають інтеліґенти своє родинне життя! ... ми, інтеліґенти, вміємо тільки теоретизувати, а проводити в життя, в діло, наших теорій ми не любимо й не можемо. Ми знаємо й бачимо, що дідівський спосіб творення шлюбу постарівся, що ми переросли його, що він шкідливий для нас, що він нас тисне й калічить, як пляшка, в якій хтонебудь захотів би викохати диню… ... Творити свою любов. Закоханість не є любов. Любиш те, що знаєш, чого прагнеш, про що мрієш. А любов приходить тоді, як одходить закоханість. І приходить не сама, а з нами, з нашим хотінням, волею, впертостю, гордостю. ... революціонери подібні до нічних метеликів. Бачили ви, як часом улітку ввечері вперто лізе до світла лямпи якийнебудь метелик? Його піймають і кинуть у темноту. Трошки згодом він знову летить. Знову піймають, і ще далі шпурнуть. Він спочине, збере останні сили і, хоч дуже таки помнятий брутальною рукою, знову летить. Бува, що його, нарешті, просто пристукнуть держальцем ножа або схоплять, зломлять крильця й так шпурнуть у темряву, що він уже не може прилетіти. От так, Степунче, й революціонери. Багато їх із помнятими, поломаними крильцями лежить десь у темноті й безсило прагне до світла. ... Революціонери завсіди були, є й будуть. Кожна молода, здорова, жива людина є революціонер. От ви підростете й займете наше місце. Вам помнуть крила, ви ослабнете, й ваше місце займуть молодші та дужчі за вас. ... Вони хороші жінки, але вони зроблять із дитини якенебудь дрантя себелюбне й нікчемне. — Через що? — Через те, що, крім звірячих почувань, у них нема нічого. Вони дріжать над нею, лижуть її, цілий день вовтузяться, а, в дійсности, вовтузяться для себе, а не для неї. ... Від сеї раптової свідомости мені стає моторошно, страшно, як людині, що симулюючи божевілля, почуває, що дійсно божеволіє, й що ніколи його не випустять із лікарні.

Maybe he got me one of those two-necklace sets, the ones with the halved hearts, I thought, and he’ll wear one half and I’ll wear the other. I couldn’t exactly picture it, but Marlboro Man had never been above surprising me. Then again, we were walking toward a barn. Maybe it was a piece of furniture for the house we’d been working on--a love seat, perhaps. Oh, wouldn’t that be the most darling of wedding gifts? A love seat? I’ll bet it’s upholstered in cowhide, I thought, or maybe some old western brocade fabric. I’d always loved those fabrics in the old John Wayne movies. Maybe its legs are made of horns! It just had to be furniture. Maybe it was a new bed. A bed on which all the magic of the world would take place, where our children--whether one or six--would be conceived, where the prairie would ignite in an explosion of passion and lust, where… Or maybe it’s a puppy. Oh, yes! That has to be it, I told myself. It’s probably a puppy--a pug, even, in tribute to the first time I broke down and cried in front of him! Oh my gosh--he’s replacing Puggy Sue, I thought. He waited until we were close enough to the wedding, but he doesn’t want the pup to get any bigger before he gives it to me. Oh, Marlboro Man…you may have just zeroed in on what could possibly be the single most romantic thing you ever could have done for me. In my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect love gift. A pug would be the perfect bridge between my old world and my new, a permanent and furry reminder of my old life on the golf course. As Marlboro Man slid open the huge barn doors and flipped on the enormous lights mounted to the beams, my heart began beating quickly. I couldn’t wait to smell its puppy breath.

No, Pug. There are many ways to love someone. Sometimes we want love so much, we’re not too choosy about who we love. Other times we make love such a pure and noble thing, no poor human can ever meet our vision. But for the most part, love is a recognition, an opportunity to say, “There is something about you I cherish.” It doesn’t entail marriage, or even physical love.

Why does she angle her head like that?" "She was abandoned as a puppy. When the shelter got her, they found a maggot infestation inside her ear. Her right eardrum's permanently damaged and it messes with her balance and makes her tilt her head like that." "Poor brave girl." He leaned over and dropped another kiss on her head. Chutney let out one of her love-grunts.

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Do you want to die?” Spittle flew from his mouth. No, she didn’t want to die. She wanted to live a long and happy life with War. Maybe have a kid or two. Definitely get a pug. She wanted to walk along the beach at sunset. She wanted to make love with War under the moonlight. Rose had a million things on her to-do list. And dying? Not on that list.