“Here's a taxidermist's," Bill said. "Want to buy anything? Nice stuffed dog?" "Come on," I said. "You're pie-eyed.""Pretty nice stuffed dogs," Bill said. "Certainly brighten up your flat.""Come on." "Just one stuffed dog. I can take 'em or leave 'em alone. But listen, Jake. Just one stuffed dog.""Come on.""Mean everything in the world to you after you bought it. Simple exchange of values. You give them money. They give you a stuffed dog.""We'll get one on the way back.""All right. Have it your own way. Road to hell paved with unbought stuffed dogs. Not my fault.”

“Mean everything in the world to you after you bought it. Simple exchange of values. You give them money. They give you a stuffed dog...all right. Have it your own way. Road to hell paved with unbought stuffed dogs.”

“Road to hell paved in unbought stuffed dogs. Not my fault.”

“The old woman had an old dog, but he hardly counted any more. He was so old that he looked like a stuffed dog. Once I took him for a walk down to the store. It was just like taking a stuffed dog for a walk. I tied him up to a stuffed fire hydrant and he pissed on it, but it was only stuffed piss.”

“I tucked him in with his stuffed-animal pet dog—cleverly named Dog-Dog, by the way.”

“He is my dog, Toto," answered Dorothy."Is he made of tin, or stuffed?" asked the Lion."Neither. He's a-- a-- a meat dog," said the girl.”