“I'll be your puppy. What do you want me to do? Chew your slippers? Piss on the kitchen floor? Lick your nose? Sniff your crotch? I bet there's nothing a puppy can do that I can't do!”

“There's a card up in your little sweetshop advertising Pomeranian cross puppies free to a good home," he observed. "What's your point?" "I'm not a puppy, you can't give me away.”

“Many people lack the basic equipment to be in a relationship and there's nothing you can do to change it. You can't take a skunk and dip it in perfume and hope it becomes a puppy. Eventually, the perfume will wear off and you'll still have a skunk on your hands.”

“There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face.”

“Sometimes the best thing that can happen to a person is to have a puppy lick your face.”

“Is this what you do with your spare time?” he asked me, ignoring his sister.“What—are you deciding to talk to me now?” Smiling tightly, I grabbed a handful of mulch and dumped it. Rinse and repeat. “Yeah, it’s kind of a hobby. What’s yours? Kicking puppies?”