Beware the Giant Hand from the Sky – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Once again, hello!

Imagine that you are asleep and a giant hand reaches out of the sky and picks you up. You can’t see it, not because you are squeezing your eyes shut, but because you are a baby puppy and your eyes have not opened yet.

Me:        Are you making fun of my blog post from the other day?

Stella:    Imagine that the giant hand holds you while a weird, squishy, rubber bottle nipple is pushed against your mouth. Imagine that the owner of the giant hand thinks that you should be grateful for the rubbery nipple, but you don’t let weird things into your tiny puppy mouth.

Me:        Excuse me?

Stella:    You are excused, Lady Human. Imagine that the nasty, mixed-up, powdered puppy milk in the bottle is all you have to look forward to for weeks until you can eat real food.

Me:        It is not nasty. It is scientifically formulated milk replacement for puppies that don’t have access to their mother’s milk – orphans and puppies whose moms don’t understand how to take care of them.

Stella:    Would you like to eat ‘scientifically’ food? Because I don’t know what ‘scientifically’ means, but it does not sound appealing.

Me:        No, but I would eat it if that were all that was available.

Stella:    I am not making fun of you, Lady Human. I would never do that. Well, maybe once in a while. Humans are funny creatures. I just don’t like it that the puppies you are helping have to be helped by you.

Me:        It happens and people help.

Stella:    I am glad it did not happen to me.

Me:        I am, too. One day, it will not happen to anyone. The Great Creator will see to that.

Stella:    Well, if His Hand is the giant hand that reaches for me from the sky, that will be all right.

“But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.”  (I Corinthians 13:10 KJV)


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Bulldogs Stink!- Conversations with Stella

Hello, humans! I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Me:        Or simply Stella, as I like to call her.

Stella:   I am not simply Stella. I am not simple at all.

Me:        All right, complex Stella, what do you want to talk about?

Stella:   You and Tall Man were spraying water everywhere this afternoon. Why?

Me:        We were giving Doodlebug and Miss Sweetie baths. We put an attachment on the hose that sprayed water all around them, head to tail. It makes washing the soap off easier.

Stella:   You wasted your time and your water.

Me:        Really? I think they smell a whole lot better than they did.

Stella:   Nope, not so much.

Me:        We used some nice vanilla-scented shampoo.

Stella:   Wasted.

Me:        We scrubbed their hair and rinsed them with lots of clean water.

Stella:   Wasted.

Me:        Now I’m disappointed.

Stella:   Have you seen how they roll around in the dirt? And in other stuff?

Me:        I thought that was an accident.

Stella:   Nope. Stinky dogs like stinky stuff.

Me:        You don’t stink.

Stella:   Nope. I am a bulldog, not a stinkpot.

Me:        Maybe if we give them another bath in a few days.

Stella:   Nope!  Waste! If you want to save water and the environment, don’t bother bathing Doodlebug or Miss Sweetie.

Me:        But if we don’t bathe Doodlebug and Miss Sweetie, we won’t be saving OUR environment.

Stella:   Good point. Carry on. But don’t trust to hope. It has abandoned these lands.

Me:        So what should we do?

Stella:   Do what any sensible bulldog does. Take your paw and put it over your nose.


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.








Don’t Push Away the Hand that Feeds You

Imagine being blind and deaf and an orphan. You are only a few hours old. Smell, touch, and taste are the only senses that guide you. Your mouth craves something warm to suckle, but there is nothing within reach. There should be someone; your instincts tell you that, but that someone is unable to care for you, and why does not matter.

Warmth takes hold of you, not pleasant and pillowy, but skinny, bony, and grasping. You strain and wriggle against it, but it won’t let you go. It presses a strange softness against your mouth. You fight that, too. It is not as soft as it should be.  It doesn’t smell right. Finally, you give up and open your lips to receive an odd liquid and your suckling instinct kicks in. The liquid does not taste quite right either, but it fills your hungry belly and now you can sleep.

All of us have been helpless. No one likes it. It is frightening. The funny thing is that often, when help comes, we resist it because we misunderstand. The help does not look like what we expected. Our instincts rebel.

I have watched tiny, un-mothered puppies fight the offer of a bottle nipple full of milk because it does not smell the way their brains say it should smell, or because there is no warm body behind it. Patience wears down the resistance though. The puppies’ survival instinct and hunger win the argument. The little dogs accept the help.

I have fought God more than once. He extended His help to me, His wisdom, His way of doing things, and I didn’t recognize it. It didn’t look, smell, or taste like what I expected or thought that I wanted. Other times, I recognized that God was behind the proffered help, but I didn’t like the shape of His solution. While I refused His help, I only delayed my own deliverance.

So what have I learned from dogs?

A wise puppy latches on even if that bottle is not his first choice.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”  (Psalm 46:1 KJV)


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.



It’s 99 Degrees. Do You Know Where Your Bulldogs Are?

I just saw the temperature. How did it get to be 99 degrees Fahrenheit without my noticing it? When the mercury rises above 98, that’s when it gets to be a little bit warm. There was that hint in the air this morning, that heavy wet blanket dampening that makes the outdoors a place to avoid.

Oddly, each of the bulldogs in turn wanted to sunbathe this morning. Maybe they sensed the approach of the stultifying afternoon heat and decided to slurp up the kinder, gentler morning sun’s rays while the slurping was safe.

The pressure is on. The heat is rising. Living will take simpler forms for a few months. We will stroll, not rush and we will abide by simple rules.

Keep calm. Calm people and calm dogs make for a cooler life.

Drink plenty of water. Bulldogs are experts at this.

Stay in the shade. Play hide and seek with the sun as “It” and don’t let that mean                   old fireball find you if you can help it.

Don’t work out during the heat of the day, even if the workout is fun. Running,                       jumping, wrestling, and chasing are play, but they are hot play.

Take advantage of cooling vests for dogs and puppy pools. Use cooling pads.                             Humans, use wet scarves and cloths.

Those are just a few basics for summer.

Wait! Is that thunder I hear? The sun is cloaked with clouds. The temperature has already dropped a degree.

Praise the LORD! Now it’s only 98 degrees. Autumn must be just around the corner. All is well!

And in case I didn’t mention it, thank You, LORD, for air conditioning.


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.










Stella’s Blog – List of Offenders

Hello! I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogge. I am back with my List of Offenders. I has been a while since I revealed who is causing the most trouble in my domain so my List is necessary to keep accounts straight.

From most offensive to least offensive, they are:

  1. Tall Man – I know that Lady Human says that humans should ever be on the List of Offenders, but Queen’s Rules rule. Tall Man has been letting his new Monster Machine that Lady Human claims is a vacuum drag him through the house again and again. It is terrifying. Then he brought out the broom. That proves that the Monster Machine is not a vacuum and Lady Human is wrong. Why sweep with the broom when a vacuum has already eaten all the dirt on the floor? Dear Tall Man, please stop cleaning. Bulldogs love dirt. Thank you.
  1. Miss Sweetie – How can one dog carry so much dirt around? Maybe she is the reason Tall Man was cleaning so much. She is the only dog using the puppy pool that Lady Human brought us and with one plunge, the water is filthy – every day! Who takes a bath every day? No wonder the rest of us don’t jump in. Who wants to share that? Miss Sweetie, take a bath! Oh…Well then, stop getting so dirty. Not rolling in dirt would be a good start.
  1. Tiger – Of course. What else is new? Reason? Picking fights with Snoopey. What else is new? She had gotten much better about that as though she were truly growing up. She just had her 2nd Two years is enough time for anyone to grow up. But she couldn’t help herself. She mad dogged Snoopey one day for no reason other than snootiness. Never lock eyes with a pack leader unless you are willing to apologize later.
  1. Snoopey – Moody. Broody. Rude-y. Unbecoming in a pack leader. As Queen, I can comment unfavorably on the pack leader. Rank hath its privileges.

Everyone else had their issues this week except for me, but they were boring so there is no need to comment on them. I was perfect. As expected. As always.


Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.



What Were You Dreaming About? – Conversations with Stella

Stella:    Hello. I am Stella, the Olde English Bulldogge, here with Lady Human again. Why? I don’t know.

Me:        I was watching you sleep a while ago.

Stella:    That is creepy. Do you stare at the others while they are sleeping?

Me:        Occasionally, but I was watching you because you were obviously dreaming and I have never seen a dog so active during sleep.

Stella:    What was I doing?

Me:        Your hind legs pumped as though you were running. One even jumped off the ground. Your eyelids twitched. You ruffled your lips. You huffed and puffed like you were out of breath and your sides bellowed in and out. Then your ears perked up, shifting back and forth. Your front legs stayed still, but that was the only part of you that was not engaged in whatever was going on in your head. So what was your dream?

Stella:    I was wearing a crown because, you know…queen. I ran up a grassy hill, leading my people, the bulldog army. We were so many. We charged the cat because she had taken and hidden all of our treats.

Me:        A whole bulldog army to chase one cat?

Stella:    As the humans say, we meant business. Our treats had disappeared! They had to be rescued!

Me:        Rescued so that they could be eaten by you?

Stella:    Not all eaten by me. Most of them, yes because, you know…queen.

Me:        So how did the battle go?

Stella:    It was exciting! I was in the lead because…

Me:        Yeah, I know…queen.

Stella:    Now you understand. Anyway, I was running, but a bulldog with longer legs…I think it was Snoopey but it all happened so fast… passed me and others passed me and so I jumped over them. I tilted my ears left and right to direct which way the army would go. At the top of the hill I found the cat. I ruffled an order for her to leave the treats and depart. She pretended that she did not understand me and just sat licking herself as though she didn’t care. The treats were in a basket behind her. I was about to grab them with my big bulldog mouth when…I woke up. I was at home. There was no army. There were no treats. It was just a dream. Unless…

Me:        Unless what?

Stella:    You make my dream come true.


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.








Never Wear a Cat on Your Head – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, the Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, here to share my royal thoughts with you again.

Me:        Royal thoughts? Really? Is that what they are?

Stella:    I am a queen, thus my thoughts are royal.  Do you envy me?

Me:        No, I’m fine with being a human commoner.

Stella:    Why were you letting the cat sit on your head today?

Me:        What are you talking about? The cat did not sit on my head today or any other day.


Stella:    I saw her. You were wearing her like a hat.

Me:        No, no, no. She was lying down on the top of my easy chair above my head. From where you sat, it probably looked as though she was on top of my head, but I do not wear cats as hats.

Stella:    She thought she was your hat. I saw her slap your face with her tail more than once.

Me:        That was funny.

Stella:    Cats are never funny. Odd.  Weird. Catlike. Sinister. But never funny. I would not let a cat slap me in the face with her tail, not even once. They get ideas. What if she decided she belonged there? What if she decided that she lived there?They think they are in charge of things. No cat would ever dare to be in charge of a bulldog, I tell you what.

Me:        I have no doubt, Stella.


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.







Conversations with Stella – The Battering Ram

Stella and I are hashing out one of my issues today, not that I expect to get far with it.

Stella:   What does that mean? “Get far with it.” Does that mean you are going on a camping trip far away? Noooo!!! Not without me! I hate camping. I still don’t understand why we do it, but I want to go if you are.

Me:        That’s so sweet, Stella!

Stella:   Not sweet. I get bored when you are not around.

Me:        Still sweet. I must be a little bit interesting if you get bored without me.

Stella:   You throw the bouncy toys in the yard.

Me:        You don’t like the bouncy toys.

Stella:   I know, but you make the effort anyway.

Me:        What about Tall Man?

Stella:   He is not a bouncy toy sort of human. He is a walk around sort of human. When you are not here, we just walk around, looking at stuff. Who needs to look at what we have already seen? And he won’t let us play the cat chasing game.

Me:        Ah, you admit it at last. It is all a game. It is not about catching the cat at all.

Stella:   Who would actually want to catch a cat? Yuck!

Me:        On to my question. When you come in from outside, why must you ram the door the second that I open it? You knock past me every time. Even when I get down close to your face and tell you to enter calmly, you blow in like the last thunderstorm, do your Stella Hop around the room, and only then do you settle down.

Stella:   I don’t understand the problem.

Me:        You hit the door like a battering ram. In fact, the ancient Romans could have used you on some of their military campaigns. I have tried to stop you. I set myself against the door and open it slowly and BAM! Here you come blasting in.

Stella:   I don’t understand the problem.

Me:        All the other bulldogs WALK through the door, sometimes a little fast, but still they walk in.

Stella:   When they walk in, they are not being bulldogs. I am a bulldog. I am Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges as I have made abundantly clear on many occasions. I don’t simply enter a room. I make my presence known. Everybody knows when Stella is in the building.

Me:        Could you maybe be a little less bulldoggy when you come in?

Stella:   Less bulldoggy? NEVER!

Me:        Well, you heard it from the dog’s mouth. Until next time, farewell from me and Stella the Battering Ram.

Stella:   Hmmph!  That’s Queen Stella to you, Lady Human! And do not forget it!

Me:        How could I?


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.





Please Stay in Your Lane

Every driver has been in this situation. You are calmly motoring along and another driver cuts around you or in front of you so closely that you can smell the paint on their vehicle. Most of the time, there is no contact. You utter a quick prayer of thanks and, hopefully, nothing else.

If you do utter something else, it may be a prayer for protection from unannounced, abrupt lane changers.

Stella, our compact-model Olde English Bulldogge, is a lane changer, and I have had to alter my walking habits accordingly.

She may “change lanes” in the yard as I am walking, minding my own business. A two-foot long, four-legged Sherman tank rolls past me, usually on my left, brushes the calf of my leg in the process, and almost takes my leg out from under me. She has been guilty of this behavior in the house as well as she rushes to get into the kitchen ahead of me. I don’t know what she thinks she is going to accomplish by this mad dash just as I don’t know what drivers think they are going to accomplish by risking an accident to get four seconds ahead of me on the freeway.

Imagine getting blindsided by a bowling ball.

So what have I learned? I have had to become more aware of my surroundings. When Stella is near me, I have to understand that she is likely to do her Stella-thing, run up on my left side, brush my leg with enough force to take it out from under me, and hustle past as though nothing has happened.

Track and field runners know that you have to stay in your lane just as motor vehicle drivers know it.

“…let us run with patience the race that is set before us.”  (Hebrews 12:1 KJV)

I have to remember to stay in my lane and run my race, not someone else’s.

Oh, and I have keep a lookout for Stella.


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.




Being Quiet When Others Aren’t


Quiet was a precious commodity that I discounted for much of my life. I grew up as an only child and my friends called me lucky. There were no sibling rivalries or fights. Little was required to be shared. I watched what I wanted to on TV. Well, I did have to share several hours a week with my parents. But the most special gift I possessed without realizing it was the freedom to retreat to my room and think or read or listen to music by myself. The greatest gift I possessed was quiet.

We have lived through a week of the unusual, including a bad automobile accident that my son was involved in last night. He is fine, as are the two young men who were in the vehicle that hit him. By God’s great grace, everyone walked away from a wreck that the officer at the scene told my son should have claimed the lives of those teenagers. After their car struck my son’s, they rolled over. Their tire tracks are on the side of my son’s SUV.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that seat belts don’t matter. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that God is not merciful. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that dogs can’t sense your emotions.

These have been barking days. I mean that literally. And figuratively.

Without having directly lived through any of the events of this week, the bulldogs have sensed the tension, the unrelenting pressure. They don’t know how to put it into our words, so they put it into theirs.

I have never heard these dogs bark so much, so loudly, so continuously as I have over the past few days. Especially Tiger and Miss Sweetie.

Why Miss Sweetie, I don’t know. She is young and opinionated. She excites easily and is hard to calm down. Any new twist to our schedule intrigues her and disturbs her. She is bullheaded and bulldoggy. She is sensitive.

Tiger I understand better. Tiger understands pain. This next week will be the one year anniversary of the dog attack that almost took her life before she came to us. In fact, she came to us as a result of that fight with one of her previous pack members. When I have been in pain for any reason, I see Tiger wince. (For Tiger’s whole story, see Saving Tiger Parts 1 – 4 in the archives of this blog).

When the nonstop barking begins, I can easily fall into annoyance, but I have no right to. Their barking is the only way they have of showing that they know something is wrong. In our house. In our world.


God bless these dogs for caring enough to bark.



Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Conversations with Stella – We’re Melting!

Stella, the Olde English Bulldogge, is here with me to have some questions answered about yesterday’s meltdown of the air conditioning.

Stella: Meltdown. Yes. That’s what it was. We were melting. Let’s not do that again. I didn’t like it.

Me: No one liked it.

Stella: The cat liked it. She was not panting. She makes me so mad.

Me: I personally have never seen a cat pant. And she was hot, too. Did you hear her meowing at me and see how she spread herself flat. That was her way of cooling off until the window unit got going.

Stella: The cat was yelling at you. We bulldogs were not yelling at you. Although I wanted to.

Me: Well, it wasn’t like it was planned.

Stella: Humans are in charge. How could it not be planned?

Me: Humans are not in charge of everything all the time. Even the stuff humans make can stop working.

Stella: Why?

Me: Parts wear out. They are not designed to last forever.

Stella: Why?

Me: Well, because they are made by humans and we don’t have the forever thing worked out yet. The Bible says in Psalm 102 that the heavens and the earth will wear out like a garment, but God will endure. The heavens and the earth have been around for a long time. He knows how to make things that last.

Stella: Can He make our A SEE last?

Me: Our air conditioner? If God were in the a/c business, He would make one that would last, I’m sure.

Stella: Is the A SEE fixed yet?

Me: Not yet. The window unit will get us all through until it is. The back part of the house is pretty warm right now so we won’t be spending a whole lot of time back there.

Stella: Oh, oh, let’s call God and ask Him to get into the A SEE business!

Me: He lets humans make machines. He set up the seasons. We have cooler weather in autumn, winter, and spring. Summer is a little more challenging for us. Remember, all of our ancestors, yours and ours, lived long lives without any air conditioning until this last century. None of my own schools were air conditioned until I went to college.

Stella: How did you all stand it?

Me: By the grace of God, we endured.

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.


Stella’s Blog – Who Forgot to Turn the Sun Down?

I am Stella, the Olde English Bulldogge Queen. Hello!

I am bringing a complaint to Lady Human from all the bulldogs. Something went horribly wrong today and I demand to know why.

When I went outside during the morning, I noticed that the outside air felt like the inside air. What was going on? The inside air always feels better than the outside air. At least the humans used to do a good job at that. All of a sudden, everything felt the same – HOT!

Some human forgot to turn the sun down.

This is how I believe it works: the Great Creator gave us the sun so that we can see well and run around and poop and pee and chase cats. He also gave it so bulldogs could sunbathe. I believe some human is assigned to turn the sun off at night so we can finish our daytime naps. But that human forgot and left the sun running too long and it got hotter and hotter and now the hot is inside the house.

I was here last year during the hot time and this did not happen.

Lady Human and Tall Man were sweating and we bulldogs were panting. Why humans don’t pant I do not understand. It would cool them off so much.

Tall Man was talking to the black box in his hand and some human was saying that he could not come today to fix something and I understood that whatever was broken was causing the house to be hot and was called A SEE. See a what? Humans are too complicated.

Lady Human set up lots of little boxes with spinners in them. The spinners go fast and blow air – HOT AIR! Where is my cool house air?

Tall Man added chunks of ice to our water. That was a nice touch, but WHERE IS MY COOL HOUSE AIR? The humans left and soon came back with a big box. Tall Man worked at the window and put a white box in it. He pushed on the box. It whirred like other human toys, but this one breathed out cold air. YAY!

Ahhhh!!!!  The cool air returned. The sun must have trapped it in that white box that Tall Man stuck in the window. Once again, Tall Man is our hero. He wrestled the cold air box from the sun and brought it home.

I felt like eating so I did. So did the others. I didn’t need to pant anymore. Neither did the others.

I will discuss all of this with Lady Human later. Right now, I am going to take a nice, long, cool nap.

Farewell until next time,

Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges



Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

You Call That Art?

Dog art. Not art about dogs. Art by dogs. I saw a piece today in our backyard.

The canvas was a sheet of white corrugated plastic. The medium? Good old Texas black clay gumbo – not the eating kind, the dirty, muddy kind. The artist?  A bulldog that has chosen to remain anonymous for now.


Of course, I know how it happened.  Yet another thunderstorm from an ominous sky turned bright afternoon to evening shadow and deluged the yard, forming a tiny temporary pond near the house. The bulldog artist, whichever one it was, inspired no doubt by the muck left behind when the rainwater seeped away, placed two firm hind feet in the goo and kicked backward, slinging the mud onto the unsuspecting board.

It was an excellent effort in the style of Jackson Pollock if Jackson Pollock had been a bulldog.

At first, I was a little concerned that the dog art resulted from “who flung poo?” rather than “who kicked mud?” Closer visual and nasal examination answered my question and kept me from grabbing the nearest hose. It would have been a shame to destroy such a fine first effort by a budding bulldog artiste.

What will become of the masterpiece? Someone will probably want to use the corrugated board for a human project and human projects preempt all others. Or it may melt away as early as the next thunderstorm. Or the bulldogs themselves may knock it over and destroy it in a joyful frenzy of bulldoggy performance art.


Which dog “painted” with mud? Probably not Stella even though she is a consistent back kicker. She is not a mud stomper. Wiggles loves mud but for rolling in, not throwing around.  I am guessing it was Tiger just from the size of the paw prints. She has the largest feet and this dog artist used very big brushes.


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.


Conversations with Stella – I Saw What You Did

Me:        I have invited Stella, the Olde English Bulldogge, to have a conversation today regarding…

Stella:    I know…I know. Something I did wrong. It has to be.  No one ever wants to talk to a bulldog about what went right. Poor old bulldog. Poor old Stella.

Me:        Stella, self-pity is unbecoming and undignified, especially in a bulldog.

Stella:    Well, someone has to do it. Who will pity me if I don’t pity myself?

Me:        Pity poor old Snoopey instead.

Stella:    Nope. She already gets too much attention.

Me:        She is the Alpha of the dogs. When she sounds an alarm, it’s never nonsense. There is always a reason and so we pay attention.

Stella:    Is her alarm bark why she gets so many softy toys?

Me:        No one has more softy dog toys than you do, which brings me to the subject at hand.  I saw what you did.

Stella:    You saw? Are you God?

Me:        No, of course not! Why? What else did you do?

Stella:    Well, what do you think I did?

Me:        I saw you sneak into Snoopey’s crate when she wasn’t around and I saw you take her favorite chicken toy. You hid it in your crate.

Stella:    Oh. That.

Me:        Yes, that. We have talked about this hoarding business.

Stella:    It is not a business. Yet. But it could be. Would you pay me extra treats to get that chicken toy back for Snoopey?

Me:        Now you are holding the chicken toy for ransom?

Stella:    I’m not asking much. Just a treat or two for finding it.

Me:        It was never lost. I know where it is.

Stella:    I…don’t…think…so.

Me:        Stella, what have you done?

Stella:    Nothing important. Why do you care? I didn’t take your chicken.

Me:        This is why you are not allowed around my stuffed animal collection.

Stella:    If you have too many, I can help you with them. They will all have a good home.

Me:        You are an official hoarder.

Stella:    With all due respect, as the humans say, it takes one to know one.


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.






Conversations with Stella – Puppy Pool Party!

Stella, the Olde English Bulldogge, and I are back and, though the calendar does not yet agree, summer has already fully arrived here…

Stella:   A pool! A swimming pool! A pool just for dogs!

Me:        I’m glad you’re excited, Stella.

Stella:   Cannonbaaaall!!!

Me:        Wait, you can’t do a cannonball in that pool. Well, you could, but all the water would splash out.

Stella:   I don’t do cannonballs. I am a bulldog. I am a cannonball! Thank you! Thank you, Lady Human, for the bulldog pool!

Me:        You are welcome!

Stella:   Of course, I won’t be using it.

Me:        What? Why not?

Stella:   The stinky puppies, Doodlebug and Miss Sweetie. Dirty.

Me:        The pool will help clean their feet.

Stella:   And everything else. Nasty.

Me:        You are going to skip pool time just because the puppies are going to use it. You need to learn to share.

Stella:   Nope.

Me:        It’s filled with clean water right now. You can jump in. Are you sure you won’t try it?


Stella:   Let’s see what it looks like when Doodlebug and Miss Sweetie are done with it. Oh, and Wiggles. Did you see how much dirt she carried into the house the other day?

Me:        Yes. She found a good dirt-rolling spot and took advantage of it. I may stick my own feet in the puppy pool once in a while.

Stella:   My point exactly. Nasty.

Me:        I hope you will reconsider, especially on the really hot days.

Stella:   Nope. It will be fine for the others. For my part, I would prefer an indoor spa and my very own bathrobe and towel. Please let me know when they show up.

Me:        Happy Summer, Stella.

Stella:   Happy Summer, Lady Human.


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.


Stella’s Blog – Urgent Alert! – Monster Invasion!

Humans, beware! A new monster is in town! It invaded our house and took Tall Man captive. Here is its description:

Its roar is a storm wind caught in a box. It is taller than me or any of the bulldogs and we were not able to stop it. Well, to be honest, we didn’t really try. Tiger is the only one who tried. She bit at it again and again. The monster paid no attention. The rest of us barked though. I thought that was brave of us, but barking only seemed to make the monster angrier. Hey, at least we didn’t run away.

The monster grabbed Tall Man’s hand and pulled him around the room, making its awful whirring scream. It had a long, black tail that got stuck in the wall. It dragged him behind the chairs and the couch, and if anything was on the floor, it sucked it in and ATE IT! Even pieces of food that we had dropped! NO!

Finally, it pulled Tall Man into the room where cars and machines live. We don’t know what happened after that. When it got dark, Tall Man reappeared. He had escaped! We were so happy! There was no sign of the loud sucking monster! He did not say so, but we bulldogs believe that he defeated the monster in battle. He is our hero! Until the next monster shows up. Then he will have to prove himself all over again.

Where are all these monsters coming from? First, giant insects. Now obnoxious, grabby, loud-mouthed monsters with wheels and forked tails. Food stealers. We dropped that food by accident. We were planning to come back for it later. Not fair!

Transcriptionist:  Stella, that so-called monster was a new vacuum cleaner.

 No, I have seen vacuums before. This was a monster. Just ask Tall Man. It wrestled him.

Transcriptionist:  You thought he was a giant insect a few months ago. That wasn’t true either.

 You are denying the monster invasion. That means only the bulldogs will be ready when they come in force.

Transcriptionist:  Not everything is a monster, Stella.

Wrong! Everything is a monster until proved otherwise. That’s how bulldogs play it safe. Stay alert, humans!

Until next time, this has been

Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, Queen of the Bulldog Monster Hunters


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.


Stella’s Blog – What is Decluttering? It Sounds Horrible.

Hello, I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Thank you for joining me for my blog. I am sure that you are honored to be here.

(Transcriptionist: Stella, that was rude. It is you who are honored that they are reading your blog.)

Despite what my transcriptionist says, I am the Queen and the Queen is never rude. Moving along…The humans are up to something that I do not understand. They may, in fact, be up to no good. I have not yet decided.

They have been bringing lots of cute, chewable items into the big room and sorting them. Lady Human and Tall Man put them in different bags and then the bags go away. The items do not smell like food so I really shouldn’t care. They had better not be throwing food out! I am the Queen! I can start a riot! Just see if I don’t!

They brought in a lot of fuzzy softy toys and put them in special bags. I heard Lady Human say, “Give away. Give away. Give away.” She said it so many times and all the while, Tall Man put the softy toys into bags and the bags left.

What is going on? Why are the toys leaving? I could use those in my bed. I only have five softy toys in there now. I need more. The toys would be safe with me. I would take care of them. I promise.

Why would humans ever give anything away? They have huge, tall crates that they sleep in. They could stack more softy toys in them all the way to the top. Between you and me, I think the humans have lost their minds again.

I know what I would have done with those toys.  First, I would have moved them all into my crate. There would soon have been no room so I would have had to claim another crate and soon enough there would have been no room in that one so I would have had to claim another crate…Mmmmm, maybe the humans have not lost their minds after all.

You are probably asking where the other bulldogs would have slept if I kept all those softy toys in their crates to which I would have answered,” Who cares?” I am the Queen, not a hotel manager for bulldogs.


Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Conversations with Stella – Musical Crates

Hello, I am Stella, the Olde English Bulldogge, and I am concerned….

Me:        I usually make the introductions, Stella.

Stella:   I am taking that over today because I am concerned that the humans have lost their minds.

Me:        I beg your pardon?

Stella:   Yes, you should. What is going on? I’ll tell you what is going on.

Me:        Then why ask?

Stella:   Craziness is going on. Old-fashioned human craziness. Perturbation has taken me over.

Me:        Where did you hear the word “perturbation”?

Stella:   From you.

Me:        I don’t think so. It’s not that I mind the word. I just wonder where you learned it.

Stella:   The dogs were passing it around at the vet’s office and the puppies brought it home the other week. You like long words. I figured that they heard it from you while you were showing off in front of the vet lady.

Me:        Stella, I don’t show off in front of the vet. What would I show off? My ignorance? And why would I use a word like “perturbation” there?

Stella:   Because we are bulldogs and we are perturbing?

Me:        Oh, all right then, why has perturbation taken you over? What is the human craziness?

Stella:   You switched Snoopey’s and Tiger’s crates without asking.

Me:        Yes, Tiger’s crate is now by you where Snoopey’s used to be and Snoopey’s crate is where Tiger’s used to be. We don’t need to ask them. We are the humans, remember?

Stella:   I don’t care that you didn’t ask them. I care that you didn’t ask me. How would you like to get a new neighbor all of a sudden and no one asked you first?

Me:        New neighbors show up next to humans all the time and no one asks first. We are going to have a new neighbor soon and nobody asked us.

Stella:   Who is this new neighbor of ours?

Me:        I don’t know yet. They just bought the place. They haven’t moved in.

Stella:   I think I don’t like that either. Are they dog people or…no! Are they cat people? No! No more cats. How could you let this happen?

Me:        I don’t know if they are cat people. I don’t know anything about them. Back to this crate issue. We placed Tiger by you in the hope that you and she would start getting along better if you became crate neighbors for a while.

Stella:   Why me? Tiger is always challenging Snoopey. Make them be crate neighbors.

Me:        We may do that.

Stella:   Why do you humans change things when they were going so well?

Me:        A little change every once in a while is okay. Why don’t you just tell Tiger, “Howdy, Neighbor!” and let it be?

Stella:   I am used to Snoopey.

Me:        Snoopey is still here. And her crate is only across the room.

Stella:   I am still filled with perturbation.

Me:        As you said, you are a bulldog and pretty much always perturbed. But I understand. It takes effort to be a good neighbor to a new neighbor.

Stella:   Pooh! She had better not pollute my airspace.

Me:        If she does, just bury your nose in your bed until it passes.

 “…Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.”  (Mark 12:31 KJV)


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.




Big Dirty Mouths

When I was a kid, a “dirty mouth” only meant one thing and it had nothing to do with brushing your teeth or swishing with mouthwash. A dirty mouth could earn you a bar of soap, but not for a shower or bath.

Our bulldogs have big dirty mouths, the kind that deposit pieces of stick, bark, and regular old dirt in their water bowls, on our pants legs, knees, ankles, arms, and, if at all possible, on bare feet and toes. Feet and toes are the best.

When the human feet aren’t bare, they are even more attractive. Then the big dirty mouths play “Snatch the Shoe”. Five points are awarded for each shoe taken directly off of a human’s foot, only two points for a shoe picked up off the floor (less of a challenge).  If the big dirty bulldog mouth makes it out the door with a shoe, add three extra points for effort. Unless immediate chase is given, the poor shoe may never be seen in its original form again.

I don’t chew on sticks or bark. I don’t recall ever spooning dirt into my mouth – well, maybe when I was very young. I do remember sucking on some pretty weeds that tasted like lemon juice, but my parents made me stop when my doctor told them that the pretty weeds were making me sick. I guess I did have a little bit of bulldog in me back in those days. The bulldogs love to eat grass and weeds, but they are smarter than I was. They never seem to get sick from their delicacies.

The big dirty mouths of humans carry more harm than the big dirty mouths of bulldogs. Our mouths spew filth and harm that can’t be washed away with clean water and a toothbrush.

Jesus said that what comes out of our mouths carries more importance than what goes in. (Mark 7:15)

“…for of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaketh.” Luke 6:45 KJV

By comparison, I think the bulldogs have an easier time keeping their mouths clean.


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.




Conversations with Stella – It’s All About Me!

Me:        Hello again. Stella is back…

Stella:    Queen Stella.

Me:        Mmmhmm… with an issue that has been bothering her.

Stella:    Wiggles is the issue that has been bothering me. Wiggles!

Me:        Wiggles is an Olde English Bulldogge, just like you are. She is your half-sister. She is not an “issue”.

Stella:    You can’t fool me, Lady Human. I saw you ruffle your lips and blow out your cheeks. You looked like a frustrated bulldog. I wanted to laugh. Your face was so funny. But I didn’t because I was a frustrated bulldog. Wiggles is a disobeyer. She doesn’t mind you. More than that, she hasn’t been minding me! That’s what is important.

Me:        Wait! You think it is more important for her to obey you than to obey me? Really? That’s not a safe attitude. Y’all are smart dogs, but humans know a whole bunch more than you do.

Stella:    Please understand. I don’t really care at all what Wiggles does. She can charge around the room like her goofy self as long as she doesn’t bump into me. She can chew on stuff as long as it’s not my stuff. She can grab the cat’s food; in fact, please do. She can dance her comma dance so long as I don’t have to watch it.

Me:        So it’s all about you.

Stella:    Of course. I thought you already knew that. Queen Stella. Remember?

Me:        How can I forget?

Stella:    Don’t worry. I will remind you constantly.

Me:        That is a rather selfish way to live, isn’t it? What about sharing?

Stella:    Sharing is for puppies. I’ve done my bit. I’m finished. What about humans? Tell me about your selfish way to live.

Me:        Uh, well…I guess I can be selfish. I try not to be.

Stella:    What about sharing?

Me:        I share…some.

Stella:    I saw you with smoked sausages. You didn’t share that with me.

Me:        It was part of one sausage and it was my whole dinner and…hey! I don’t have to explain to you what I do with my food. I have shared plenty with you bulldogs.

Stella:    That depends. How do you define “plenty”?


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.