Yappie Quotes

The demons diverted its sights from me and swooped down on the yappy mutt. Dogs aren't my thing. I hate dogs. And if this one was dumb enough to sacrifice itself for me, hallelujah. I kept running. After I reversed course. Stupid dog.

Growled. Like a pissed-off wolf. No, like a whiny dog, I told myself firmly. One of those little yappy ones. Wolves kicked ass and Hunter didn’t. He was a giant, fake asshole.

It was Roland who taught us that there are two types of prayer. One, he said, is the dozing pussycat prayer, purring by the warm fire of God’s presence. The other is the yappy dog prayer, scratching at the door of heaven, imploring God’s help in our lives.

Anyway, the odds were against you. Most lost big, while only a few—” Rand paused dramatically “—won big.” “Since you’re here, I suppose you won big.” He smiled. “Yelena, I’m always going to bet on you. You’re like one of the Commander’s terriers. A tiny, yappy dog you wouldn’t look at twice, but once it grabs your pant leg, it won’t let go.” “Poison the dog’s meat and it won’t bother you anymore.

I figured you’d be a Pomeranian girl.” “Because I’m adorable with great hair?” “No, because you’re small and yappy.

Interesting. I figured you’d be a Pomeranian girl.” “Because I’m adorable with great hair?” “No, because you’re small and yappy.” Kai’s smile graduated into a laugh when I swatted his arm.

Kaye continued walking and smiled to herself. She stopped suddenly. “Where’s Yappy?” “Dead.” He stood watching Kaye who said nothing. “Buried him right next to dad out there at the pyramid.” “When’d he die?” “Right after Dad. Yappy, just kind of... well you know how dogs are, very emotional, they take these things personally. He used to sit outside Dad’s bedroom. I mean, the room is still full of the man, only he’s not there, to be seen, anymore. Dog has one of the most precisely logical minds to be found in nature. Death doesn't make any sense to a dog, he has no appreciation of it. Like we do. He doesn't know it’s coming for him too. If he did, he'd just say, ‘what is this shit, who’s in charge here, what’s the point?

I don’t really like tiny dogs. I can get to know and respect individual small dogs, but as a concept, they generally bum me out. I guess it’s because I know human beings had a hand in their breeding and I believe that to be wrong. Let dogs fuck each other (or not, if you spay/neuter them), and stay out of the way. Don’t decide which dogs should fuck each other so that you can wind up with a litter of miserable, shivering little abominations that will fit in a cereal bowl when fully grown. Plus, do you watch the dogs fuck each other and/or assist them? Psychos. Do you punish them if they refuse? Anyway, it’s clear my issue is with the dog breeders themselves more than their cursed progeny, but I can’t help but be reminded of their origin when I hear some yappy little shitbox barking at the heavens, knowing deep inside God has forgotten about it.

To acquire customers, Baroo did not invest in traditional paid marketing, such as Facebook ads. Instead, the startup relied on the marketing efforts of apartment building partners and on word-of-mouth referrals from existing customers. Buildings would distribute a welcome gift from Baroo—a chew toy or leash—to new residents who owned pets. The team also hosted quarterly events for residents, such as “yappy hours” and pet Halloween. Finally, building concierge staff would recommend Baroo to residents. In exchange, the startup paid buildings a share of the revenue that it earned from their residents, averaging about 6 percent. Such revenue sharing is standard practice for service providers, like cable TV companies, that want access to residents.

The last part, she almost barks. She would have made a wonderful poodle — yappy, mean, and inclined to bite.

few yards over, a dog barked. I wasn’t too worried about it since it sounded like a small dog and those yappy bastards barked at everything. Had it been a big dog I might’ve been

I looked at King. “Did the woman just give me a lecture even though I didn’t do what she fuckin’ thought I did?” “It was a preemptive strike,” she explained like the prim and proper little teacher she’d been. “And I’m not a teacher anymore, so don’t call me ‘teach’.” “She did,” King confirmed, ignorin’ her. “She does that.” “Don’t know how you put up with it,” I told ’im, purposely ignorin’ the irritation makin’ Cress bristle. I liked buggin’ the fuck outta her, she was cute like a little yappy dog when she was mad. “Knew I raised a strong man, didn’t know I’d raised a saint.