Stella’s Night Before Christmas – Conversations with the Pack

I am Stella, Queen Illustrious of the Old English Bulldogges, and poet.

‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house, every bulldog was stirring because someone smelled a mouse.

 Tiger:     It was a rat! They smell different from mice.

Stella:    Show off!

Snoopey:  It’s not in the house. It’s in the outside world.

Tiger:     Why can I smell it so strongly then?

Snoopey:  It stinks! And as much as I hate to admit it, you have a good nose. As do I! Don’t get any ideas about becoming pack leader!

Stella:    Stop! Enough politics!

Miss Sweetie:    We should all bark at it. We should all bark at everything.

Stella:    Sweetie, that’s your only solution for anything. Now everybody settle down. I am trying to write a Christmas poem for Lady Human and Tall Man.

The humans are nestled all snug in their beds while vast herds of bulldogs romp through their heads.

Wiggles:  Bulldogs romping. Haha! I want to romp.

Snoopey: In humans’ heads? That sounds painful. No, take that line out.

Stella:    My poem! My words!

When out on the patio, there arose such a loud clatter that I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Well, not ‘sprang’, not really. More like I sat up gradually and looked around.

Tiger:     It’s that rat! I told you.

Snoopey:  Wait! It’s not that fat, bearded man in the furry suit, is it?

Wiggles:  The humans on the Picture Box said that he would come down the chimney. I don’t want anybody coming down the chimney. Especially a fat human. He might get stuck.

Stella:    We don’t let regular strangers in the house. Why would we allow a stranger to come down the chimney? Oh, great! This Christmas thing isn’t fun. Now we’re going to have to sit up all night on guard to make sure the furry red suit guy doesn’t invade the house by way of the chimney.

Tiger:     I’ll take first watch.

Snoopey:  You will not! I will!

Stella:  Doodlebug, you take third watch. Doodlebug? Doodlebug!

Wiggles:  Doodlebug fell asleep. He is dreaming his Christmas vision of bulldogs romping through his head.

Stella:    Okay, I’ll finish the poem later. Let’s try a song.

Bulldogs guarding by an open fire. Jack Frost nowhere to be found. Yuletide carols being sung by a…

What are ‘Yuletide carols’? And how does that fat, bearded guy in the furry red suit come down the chimney when there is a fire burning in the fireplace. Never mind. We need to do more research on Christmas before we can help the humans celebrate.

Wiggles:  I know the best way to celebrate with the humans. My big wet tongue is ready for their salty faces. Merry Christmas, bulldogs!

 

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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