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One of my biggest pet peeves is that I just don’t like it when characters do things that are funny to the writer, but you don’t know why they’re doing it and it doesn’t make any sense.
I always pet a dog with my left hand because if he bit me I’d still have my right hand to paint with.
Crabbed and obscure definitions are of no use beyond a narrow circle of students, of whom probably every one has a pet one of his own.
I was in New York and I walked into this pet store and came out with a dog.
Pet me, touch me, love me, that’s what I get when I perform. That’s when I’m really getting what I want.
I think there’s something great and generic about goldfish. They’re everybody’s first pet.
It’s true, you can never eat a pet you name. And anyway, it would be like a ventriloquist eating his dummy.
Pet stores just sell their animals.
I have this pet thing about how global communications are moving so fast now, throwing information at you, making everything available to you, and yet I feel it’s leaving us more and more isolated.
To this day I don’t ever remember seeing a pet inside Moscow, I never saw anyone carrying a dog, or leading a dog. Err I finally saw a, a pet some years later in Kiev, so I thought that life must have been, different.