Found 300 results
42.3s
I've been hunted by dog-catchers all my life. I'm not easy to trap. I've only got three captures on my record where I actually got sent to the pound, I mean, and the first two times, I escaped within 24 hours, but the third time... I got adopted before I could finish digging the break-out-tunnel. It was a big family. Five kids. Two other dogs, already. They stuck me in the back of a station-wagon and drove me out to the middle of the sticks. Grass, trees, swimming pool. Cartoons on TV. Anyway, one morning a week later, the youngest boy, his name was Toshiro, woke me up at 6:15, bright-eyed, wide-awake, and he tried to pet me.
Isle of Dogs
30.3s
You heard the rumor, right? About Doggy Chop. - Remind us again. - What rumor? - Oh, they folded. - Oh, no. Doggy... Doggy Chop folded? How about you, Chief? What was your favorite food? Me? Oh, I don't care. Garbage, trash, scraps of rubbish. - I'm used to left-overs. - Hmm. Yeah, yeah. Of course, I wasn't always a stray. Wait. What'd you say? I said I wasn't always a stray. - Really? Since when? - Tell us about that.
Isle of Dogs
1m57s
I've lost all of my pride I've been to paradise and out the other side Part Two: "The Search for Spots." With no one to guide me Torn apart by a fiery wheel inside me An untouched diamond That's golden and brilliant without illumination Your mouth's a constellation The stars are in your eyes I'll take a spaceship and try and go and find you The Middle Fingers of Trash Island wind and weave up-river, inter-stitched by zig-zagging pipe-lines and rusty viaducts. The ruins of a failed utility-complex washed-out by tsunami. The rubble of an abandoned power-plant demolished by earthquake. The remains of a deserted industrial estate destroyed by volcanic blast. I won't hurt you I won't hurt you I won't hurt you I won't hurt you The Old Trash Island Athletic Club, member-less and long-forgotten. Okay, I got a question. What's your favorite food? A double-portion of Doggy Chop from the can mixed into a bowl of broken Puppy Snaps with a vitamin crushed up into it. King's the spokes-dog for that. He's the Doggy Chop dog. - Mmm. Used to be. - Was that your daily meal? Not always. My master was a school-teacher. We weren't rich, you know. You? A center-cut Kobe rib-eye, seared, on the bone, with salt and pepper. Wow. It was my birthday supper. Every year. Mine's hot-sausage, yakitori-style. The snack vendor always saved me one on game-days. - Hmm. Duke? - Ah, green-tea ice cream. My master had a sweet-tooth. I probably inherited it from her.
Isle of Dogs