A Quiet Visit – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Once again, Lady Human is in violation of her curfew.

Me:        I beg your pardon?

Stella:    Granted.

Me:        I mean, what curfew? I am an adult human, remember. No bulldog-imposed curfews here.

Stella:    You are supposed to come within an hour of church ending unless you let us know that you are going to lunch with humans.

Me:        Do you really keep that close a count on my minutes outside the house?

Stella:    If we don’t, who will? Where did you go after church?

Me:        Well, truthfully, I went to visit my father’s grave.

Stella:    Is grave a trick word that means you went to lunch with the humans?

Me:        No.

Stella:    Then what is a grave?

Me:        It’s where someone’s body is buried after they die.

Stella:    Die? Death happened to your sire?

Me:        Yes, 5 days before Christmas, 43 years ago.

Stella:    That sounds like a long, long time.

Me:        It is a long, long time. And it’s like yesterday.

Stella:    And his body was buried in a grave? Why?

Me:        Because he didn’t need it anymore. He left it and went on.

Stella:    I think I understand. Dogs bury things. We visit them later.

Me:        Humans are…different.

Stella:    So why did you visit your sire’s grave?

Me:        One of my cousins lives far away. She wondered what the place looks like now. She has not visited for a long time. I sent her some pictures.

Stella:    What does it look like?

Me:        A field. Grass. Trees. Sun. Shade. Quiet. And nearby is this very large oak tree.

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Stella:    So, this is how you remember.

Me:        One of the ways.

Stella:    You believe that your father is with the Great Creator.

Me:        Yes.

Stella:    That your father is not where you visited today. Just what he left behind.

Me:        Yes, even so.

Stella:    Please feel free to visit that memory place whenever you wish, Lady Human. May I go with you someday?

Me:        I don’t know if dogs are allowed because, you know, dogs…and grass.

Stella:    I understand. It’s terrible to be the well-behaved one among all the misbehavers.

 

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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