I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. What was all that hubbub last night with Squawky the Squawker Chicken squawking and Tall Man stomping around with that light attached to his forehead.
Me: His headlamp.
Stella: I don’t know what it’s called, but it was on his head and it was bright.
Me: He was scooting something out of the henhouse. I’m not sure you want to know any more than that.
Stella: I’m the queen. I should be told.
Me: I didn’t notice any of you bulldogs getting up to check it out.
Stella: We were tired. There was that loud, bang boom storm and how can we sleep through something like that and then Squawky was making her big voice noise and…wait…Squawky never squawks after dark.
Me: That’s right.
Stella: And Tall Man was scooting something out of the henhouse with a bright light stuck to his head.
Stella: And that thing was…NOOOOO! A POSSUM!!! NOOOOO! Where is it? Where did it go? Is it in the house?
Stella: How do you know it’s not in here with us? Oh, the horror! The horror!
Me: It’s gone. It is not in the house. And it’s not in the henhouse anymore. And none of the chickens were hurt.
Stella: This cannot go on, Lady Human! You humans must make one of those laws you all are so fond of, this time against possums.
Me: Yeah, well, it usually doesn’t work that way. The storm probably stirred that one up. Or it got scared by a coyote.
Stella: OOOOO! Don’t even get me started on coyotes. They think they’re so smart. What if the possum comes back?
Me: We’ll deal with that if the time comes. Do you want me to wake you next time so you can do the scooting?
Stella: Lady Human! How dare you suggest such a thing? How could I deprive Tall Man of the scooting pleasure?
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