I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Bulldogs are strong. Bulldogs are tough. Bulldogs are warriors. Bulldogs are rough. Bulldogs are…
Me: Is this a poem you are writing?
Stella: No, what would make you think that?
Me: Well, the rhyming.
Stella: What’s rhyming?
Me: Never mind.
Stella: I was making a point about what bulldogs are that you are not.
Me: Okay, I guess. Hey, is that sort of an insult?
Stella: It’s not sort of an insult. It is an insult. Bulldogs don’t do things sort of. For example, what are you doing with your hands?
Me: I’m trying to get this big bag to the front for bulk trash week.
Stella: If you are trying, it will never get done. Take the advice of a bulldog.
Me: Oh, my, has it come to that?
Stella: Why can’t you just move it?
Me: It’s heavy and bulky, hence the term ‘bulk trash’.
Stella: Pull on it.
Me: I am.
Stella: Not enough. Bulldog it!
Me: I am.
Stella: You call that bulldoggy! Pull!
Me: I am.
Stella: Stop playing with it and BULLDOG IT!
Me: Okay, I got it. It’s moving!
Stella: That’s the way to bulldog it! Now go get that other ugly bag over there. It’s in my way when I go potty.
Me: I haven’t even finished moving this bag yet.
Stella: A bulldog would never use that as an excuse.
Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
Bulldoggy 