Woody: 78, 79... If you keep moving around, Spotty, I'm not gonna be able to get an accurate count. 1, 2, 3, 4...
Rebecca: I guess you've given up on finding his owner, huh?
Woody: Well, why don't you want me to have this dog, Ms. Howe?
Rebecca: It's not that I don't want you to have the dog, Woody, it's just that I have this this thing about being completely honest when it comes to lost pets. Okay, when I was ten years old, I had this beautiful Persian cat named Princess. She only loved me. She didn't like anybody else in my family. One day I woke up, Princess was gone. My mom and dad said that she got out through the bedroom window. The weird thing is, I could have sworn that bedroom window was painted shut. It bothered me for years.
Frasier: Then as you matured, you came to accept the fact that it was your parents who, in fact, got rid of the cat.
Rebecca: What?! My Princess?! They took my Princess?!

Cliff: Hey, guys, guess what followed me home.
Carla: A slime trail?
Cliff: This cute little fellow right here. Huh? Isn't he sweet? The cutest little dog you've ever seen, huh?
Sam: What you gonna do with him, Cliff?
Cliff: Oh, l, I thought we'd just keep him in the bar here, Sam, you know, kind of like a bar mascot.
Norm: Guys, I kind of thought I was the bar mascot.

Woody: Hey, this is fun. Did you have a trademark, Sam?
Sam: Shut up and leave me alone.
Woody: Actually, Sam, that's more of a motto.

Norm: No, come on, man, don't let him lick your- Ew! Don't let him lick your lips like that.
Cliff: Oh, it's okay. You know, it's an interesting fact that that dog's mouth is probably cleaner than anybody's in this bar.
Carla: There's a shock.

Norm: Fras, how about you? You want to play with the puppy?
Frasier: I don't know. Uh, my mother never allowed me to have a puppy when I was a boy. Consequently, she instilled in me a slight fear of animals.
Norm: I'd say it's about time you got over that. Come on, now, Spotty. I want you to say hello to your Uncle Frasier.
Frasier: Well, hello, Spotty. Norm, l... I think Spotty wants to go away now.
Norm: No. He feels pretty comfortable there, doesn't he?
Frasier: Well, did I mention to you that, uh, Spotty wants to buy you a beer?
Norm: Good boy, Spotty.

Woody: Can I help you?
Dutch Kincaid: Yeah. I'm looking for a yellow-bellied, runny-nosed has-been.
Woody: Hmm, can't make one of those. I'm out of cassis.

Carla: That'll teach you to pinch a lady's butt in a locker room.
Sam: Guys giving you trouble?
Carla: No. I was teaching them how to pinch a lady's butt in a locker room.

Sam: Ah, look at this. I'm focused, I'm psyched, I'm sober. Hey, Dutch doesn't stand a chance today?
Carla: Yeah.
Sam: Only one thing missing, huh?
Carla: I know, Sam.
Sam: Yeah, I wish Coach were here.
Carla: He is.

Carla: Call me sentimental, but doesn't this bring back the old days?
Sam: Yeah.
Carla: I want you to get out there, Sammy, grind him into a raw, meaty pulp, spread him on home plate and slide into his guts. [sobbing] I've got to get a Kleenex.

Ballplayer: Hey, you guys aren't supposed to be in here.
Cliff: [mouth full] That's all right, we're with Sam Malone.
Norm: [mouth full] Mm-hmm. We're his personal trainers.
Ballplayer: So you're okay down here?
Cliff: [chuckles] We know our way around a dugout, pally.
Norm: Look out, Cliffy. Incoming.
Cliff: Boy, that ball girl's really got an arm, huh? Here you go, Toots. Aw, Norm.
Norm: What?
Cliff: Barbecue sauce got all over the nachos. [both eat]
Both: Hey!