Bart: Wow! My own credit card! [kisses Santa's Little Helper] Thanks, Santos! [Santa's Little Helper coughs up a quarter] A quarter? Well, you're just the dog who keeps on giving, aren't ya?
Homer: Well, crying isn't gonna bring him back ... unless your tears smell like dog food. So you can either sit there crying and eating can after can of dog food until your tears smell enough like dog food to make your dog come back, or you can go out there and find your dog.
Bart: You're right, dad! [leaves]
Homer: Rats! Almost had him eating dog food!
Comic Book Guy: Oh, pardon me, Santos, if that is your real name, Bart Simpson, but your phony credit card is no good here. Now make like my pants, and split.
Marge: Homer, are you wearing a tie to impress Laddie?
Homer: Do you think he noticed?
Lisa: [to Bart] You can't afford this. How can you afford this?
Bart: Ahh you've been all edgy and suspicious ever since I gave you those Pep Pills.
Lisa: [all peppy and speedy] What are you talking about-I don't need pep pills to be suspicious-If I wanna comment on it, I'll comment on it-Who's gonna stop me-You, Pep Pill Boy?-Pep boys- pills-Beverly Sills-Oh boy ah boy-Uh oh-uh oh... [walks out of Bart's room and off-screen] Uh oh. I gotta stop taking those pills.
Homer: You gave both dogs away?? You know how I feel about giving!
Homer: Hi, Marge. Hi, Santa's Little Helper. Hi, kids. HEY! That's not Santa's Little Helper!
Marge: That's Laddie! Bart says he won him at a church carnival two towns over.
Lisa: ...in a truth-telling contest, right, Bart?
Bart: Ah, to the best of my recollection. Yes.
Lisa: Hey, this says we should feed him lots of eggs and olive oil to ensure a glossy coat.
Homer: Oh yeah. A dog like this you have to feed everyday.
Marge: [reads from the manual] Some call it the dog that never sleeps, though it actually does -- while jogging!
Bart: I'm going to get the dog back!
Homer: [off-camera, distant] The good dog or the bad dog?
Bart: The bad dog. Homer: Ah good.
Groundskeeper Willie: Yeah I bought your little mutt...And I 'ate him. I 'ate his little face, I 'ate his guts, and I 'ate the way he's always barking. So I geeeve him to the church
Bart: Oh, you hate him so you gave him to the church?
Groundskeeper Willie: Aye. I also 'ate the mess he left on the rug. You heard me!
Mr. Mitchell: Hi there. How can I help you?
Bart: You're the guy who owns the dog?
Mr. Mitchell: Yep. His name is Sprinkles.
Mr. Mitchell: Yeah, he's my best buddy, eh. 'specially since my parrot decided to stop talking. [the parrot is now a dead skeleton in a cage] Polly? Polly, wanna say hi to my guest? Eh? Fine, be that way.
Chief Wiggum: [busts down Mr. Mitchell's door and rings the doorbell] Hello! Police! Aw, man, if this one's not the right house, I quit!
Chief Wiggum: Marijuana. Well, I guess he didn't like you after all. He just smelled your narcotics. Book him, boys.
Eddie: Hang on, Chief. It might be medicinal.
Blind Man: Oh, yeah! Medicinal! Why, without it I could, uh, go even blinder, right?
Chief Wiggum: Uh, this might take awhile, kid.
(Bart searches for Santa's Little Helper.)
Reverend Lovejoy: Mmm, yes I remember Satan's Little Helper littering the rectory with his dirt, biting me in the apse.
Agnes Skinner: He unholied the holy water!
Bart: That's him all right. I'll be happy to take him off your hands.
Reverend Lovejoy: Oh, I'm afraid that's impossible, Bart. He's no longer among us.
Bart: (gasps) You didn't crucify him?
Reverend Lovejoy: (laughs) No. He's safely with one of our parishioners. I'll give you his address if you'll like.
Agnes Skinner: And then buy somethin' or get out! Angel.