I am Stella, the one and only Illustrious Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Nobody appointed me. Nobody elected me. I just came this way.
First of all, let me say that I do not get enough attention…
Me: Haha! As if!
Stella: As if what, Lady Human?
Me: It’s just an expression. It means that I doubt what you just said.
Stella: How rude! Who would know better than I if I am getting enough attention or not? I know when I am being fed, being petted, being talked to – not that “Do this, Stella!” and “Don’t do that, Stella!” human nonsense talk but actual conversation about food, and treats, and what is that scary thing on the Picture Box, and…
Me: Life’s important issues.
Me: You are an attention hound.
Stella: I beg your pardon.
Stella: No, I mean how dare you call me a hound of any kind? I am a bulldog. There is no mistaking us for any other kind of dog. If I am an attention anything, it would be an attention…sponge. Yes. A sponge that soaks up all the attentiony goodness and keeps soaking it in until I am full and the attention starts leaking out all over the ground. Attention sponge. That’s me!
Me: So right now, you are not full of attention and leaking?
Stella: Right now, I am as dry as a bone. Bone. Now there’s an idea. I could go for one of those about now.
Me: Would that fill your attention quota?
Stella: Quota? You use such strange words. Would I be a leaky sponge if I had a bone? No. But add in a shoulder massage and a tummy rub (not one of those one, two, three, and you’re done sort of tummy rubs either), a few treats and a head rub, and throw in one of those long, boring human stories you like to tell…
Stella: It’s you and me, Lady Human. Don’t worry. I don’t expect it to be exciting.
Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.