Pongo: Perdy, I'm afraid it's all up to us.
Perdita: Oh, Pongo. Isn't there any hope?
Pongo: Well, yes. There's the twilight bark.
Perdita: The twilight bark? But dear, that's only a gossip chain.
Pongo: Darling, it's the very fastest way to send news. And if our puppies are anywhere in the city, the London dogs will know. Now we'll send the word tonight when our pets take us for a walk in the park.
Pongo: As far as I could see, the old notion that a bachelor's life was so glamorous and carefree was all nonsense. It was downright dull.
Pongo: It was plain to see that my old pet needed someone, but if it were left up to Roger, we'd be bachelors forever. He was married to his work writing songs. Songs about romance of all things. Something he knew absolutely nothing about.
Perdita: That witch. That devil woman. She wants our puppies. That's all she's after.
Pongo: Don't worry, Perdy. They're on to her. Nothing's going to happen to our puppies.
Perdita: But what does she want with them? She can't possibly love them. Oh, Pongo. I was so happy at first, but now I - oh, I-I wish we weren't having any.
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