Jack: What kind of tiger is that - Siberian or Bengal?

An English traveller relates how he lived upon intimate terms with a tiger; he had reared it and used to play with it, but always kept a loaded pistol on the table.

If you want to kick the tiger in his ass you'd better have a plan for dealing with his teeth

So we're trying to breed Sluggo and get pick of the litter, so we put him with the female dog for a week. And to make sure it takes, we take him to the vet and they do the artificial insemination, and now it don't take shit to get Sluggo to go to the vet! So the last time we go there, the lady says, "Mr. White, if you'll just come with me, I'll show you how to do this, so next time you don't have to bring the dog, you can just bring the sperm." And I'm like [laughing] "No, you go ahead and jack off the dog, he follows me around too much as it is." He'll be following me around like, "Jack me off! Jack me off! You did it once!" Do it yourself. "I don't have any thumbs. [sobbing] I don't have any goddamn thumbs! Now jack me off, you piece of shit!" [feigned shock] Do we talk to Daddy like that? "Please? Please, jack me off, you piece of shit, I don't have any goddamn thumbs."...I've lost my mind.

193. If the old dog barke he gives counsell.

Doctors is all swabs... and that doctor there, why, what do he know about seafaring men? I been in places hot as pitch, and mates dropping round with Yellow Jack, and the blessed land a-heaving like the sea with earthquakes — what do the doctor know of lands like that? — and I lived on rum, I tell you.

Personally, I have always felt the best doctor in the world is the veterinarian. He can't ask his patients what is the matter — he's got to just know.

Many a time I have sat in the jungle in Central India watching a bait, in the form of a bullock or calf tied to a tree, awaiting the arrival of the lord of the forest, and put there as a trap to entice him to his doom. On this occasion, I have exactly the same feelings as those of the miserable animal whom I have so often looked upon in that position, and, if I compare myself to that bait, I may compare my right hon. Friend the Member for Epping (Mr. Churchill) to the tiger. I hope that hon. Members and the right hon. Gentleman himself will remember, however, that there is waiting for the tiger a pair of lynx eyes and a sure and safe rifle to ensure his ultimate fate.

I was the daughter of my father's wife. I spoke in a trembly voice. I became pale, ill, and more thin. I let myself become a wounded animal. I let the hunter come to me and turn me into a tiger ghost. I willingly gave up my chi , the spirit that caused me so much pain.
Now I was a tiger that neither pounced nor lay waiting between the trees. I became an unseen spirit.

It was a master surgeon, him that ampytated me - out of college and all - Latin by the bucket, and what not; but he was hanged like a dog, and sun-dried like the rest, at Corso Castle.

Denmark nursed that anger and it kept him free.

[When asked if he could think of a cure for a dog who eats soil]

The Swede who had walked in his sleep- he had not been wounded. Before we went into Batea he was in our peloton with Tabb and Moish Taubman and Johnson and Sid... He seemed to be stupid, but he wasn't. He never spoke, he never asked questions, but he had a face like a snake- he had the attentive expression of a reptile, pale, hard, unmoving eyes, a wide thin mouth, an impassive face. They said he had refused to retreat; he had set up his machine-gun on a hill, and told the others he was with, "Go on, I cover you." They left him there on the hill alone, his machine-gun banging away as the tanks came up.

There is a bit of Hans Christian Andersen in every Dane.