Bulldog Poetry in the Dark – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Me:        I am a little fuzzy on the whole queen thing. Can you give the bulldogs commands? Will they mind you?

Stella:    Can I? I can. Do I? All the time. Will they mind? Quien sabe? Did you notice that? I answered in Spanish. I am a bilingual dog! Yay me!

Me:        If you say so.

Stella:    I know you, Lady Human. You would not be bringing this question up if there were not something you want me to order the bulldogs to do.

Me:        Yes. PLEASE, no more extended barking during the dark.

Stella:    Who was doing that?

Me:        You know who.

Stella:    Was it me?

Me:        No. Wait. Wouldn’t you know if you were barking?

Stella:    Not if I were in the middle of one of my wonderful Flying Stella squirrel chasing dreams. Wonderful. Flying. Me.

Me:        No, it was not you. It was Miss Sweetie. It was 5 a.m., really 4 a.m. if you don’t go by Daylight Savings Time, also known as Fake Time. Not a sunray in sight and she was popping off and nothing was wrong. It was pitch dark and I was trying to sleep.

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Stella:    Of course, nothing was wrong. And that was not barking.

Me:        You could’ve fooled me.

Stella:    We often do, Lady Human. You notice that no one else joined in.

Me:        So, she was not barking even though it sounded just like barking.

Stella:    It was Bulldog Poetry. Sweetie is a Bulldog Poet like me.

Me:        What was she saying?

Stella:    Oh, I don’t know. It was pitch dark and I was trying to sleep.

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

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