I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Something is happening that has happened too often before. I think I know what it is, but I have to check. I could be wrong. Lady Human, is everything all right with you?
Me: Sure. Why?
Stella: That sound coming from you.
Me: You don’t like that song?
Stella: Song? I wasn’t sure. It sounded as though you were in distress. We are ready to assist. How can we help?
Me: No help is needed. I was just singing.
Stella: Are you sure that’s what you were doing? It sounded like something unpleasant was going on. Isn’t singing supposed to be pleasing?
Me: Okay. Okay. You don’t like my singing. I get it.
Stella: If you know that, why do you still do it? Do you like to make people and bulldogs unhappy?
Me: No. But when I feel like singing, I let it out. Consider it a form of free speech.
Stella: Ah, free speech. That thing that humans celebrate but deny to bulldogs.
Me: What free speech, pray tell, have you all been denied?
Stella: Stand by. Now hear this. AWWWWGggghh! Rawwwhhhh! Rawwwhhhh! Rawrahhhhh! Wait! Why are you covering your ears?
Me: A little loud, thank you.
Stella: You are welcome.
Me: No, I meant…
Stella: I know. Bulldog singing is beautiful in any language.
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