I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Lady Human, call the people with shiny metal stars on their shirts! Someone has chopped down a bunch of our plants. Our special bulldog forest is gone!
Me: No need to involve the authorities. I chopped down the weeds. Literally. With a hatchet. Those were tough little boogers.
Stella: But why, oh why? What about the beautiful paths that we tore through them? Now the paths are just…paths.
Me: Lamb’s quarter is great stuff for a while, but had you noticed that it is all dead since the colder weather came? Those plants won’t come back. They had to be cleared out.
Stella: But now our yard is so plain. And blank.
Me: And easy to see around. And easier to walk through. Once the oak tree fell in that storm, the lamb’s quarter took over.
Stella: Yes, our weeds were happy little plants.
Me: The chickens did love it. Some people call it ‘pig weed’.
Stella: You tell those people that they are wrong. It is bulldog weed! Tough! Just like us!
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Bulldoggy 