I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges. Lady Human, how come I don’t have hands like a human? If I did, I could do so much more damage than I can with just my mouth and paws.
Me: The Great Creator is wiser than that. He has plenty to deal with as it is with what all we humans do with our hands.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges. Sweetie, why do you have to do that every time?
Sweetie: What do I do every time? Breathe. Eat. Drink. Sleep.
Doodlebug: No, how come you shake yourself all over every time you wake up from a nap? I don’t do that and I am the king. So I don’t see any reason why you should do it.
Sweetie: Let’s see. Why do I shake myself all over after a nap? Well, number one, it makes me feel good, like everything is in place. Number two, it wakes my skin up. Number three, it clears my head and gets me to thinking.
Doodlebug: Really? I didn’t think you did that.
Sweetie: Oh, all the time, but not when I sleep. Number 4, it’s traditional and you don’t break with tradition lightly.
Me: How did it become a tradition and not just a habit?
Sweetie: You know. Lady Human. You do something and do something and do something and then it starts to be odd when you don’t and then it starts to mean something to you, and I shake myself off and that starts everything over again. It’s a new day. So now it’s a tradition. And don’t you dare tell me not to do it or I’ll start a new tradition like stepping on your toes.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.
Me: Okay, Doodlebug! This is the second time I’ve found the cheese cracker box on the ground and this time the bag has been pulled out of it. Did you do this?
Doodlebug: How dare you accuse the king of stealing cheese crackers! Kings do not steal crackers. They are offered crackers by their humble subjects which, by the way, you have not done for several days so if I had tried to sneak a snack, who could have blamed me?
Me: Sweetie?
Miss Sweetie: Do I look as though I could have jumped up on the counter and knocked that cracker box down? Next candidate?
Me: MoonCat?
MoonCat: Meow.
Me: You did this.
MoonCat: Meow.
Me: You’ve never even tasted a cheese cracker before.
MoonCat: It was about time I did. Honorary bulldog, remember?
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.
Sweetie: What do you mean “king”? I don’t remember voting for you.
Doodlebug: No vote necessary. Facts are facts. I’m in charge of the pack which is everybody.
Me: Uh, beg to differ. Number one – I am in charge. Number two – I am not a bulldog, thus not a pack member.
Sweetie: Awww, Lady Human, you are one of us even though you are not nearly as good-looking as we are, but you can’t help that, I know.
MoonCat: Meow. Me, too. Pack member.
Doodlebug: Yes, even though you are not now and never will be a true bulldog, join in.
Sweetie: This is getting out of control. What next? Chickens? Monster lizards? Bugs?
Doodlebug: Chickens…I dunno…maybe, but I definitely draw the pack membership line at bugs. They don’t listen to instructions, and they try to take over everything.
I have dreaded writing this post for a whole month. No, I have dreaded it longer than that, maybe for years.
Stella passed away one month ago today. She went fast, quietly, in her sleep. Her legs were relaxed.
Had she been standing, they would have been in a running position, the way they always looked when she would chase a squirrel.
Later that day, I came across a cartoonish sketch I had made of her years ago in the same running pose. The caption read, “Flying Stella: I can’t feel my feet touching the ground.” And I realized that had become for her quite literally true. Fly, girl, fly. See you later.
I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. LADY HUMAN!
Me: What’s wrong?
Stella: It’s HORRIBLE! No, no, calm down, Lady Human!
Me: I’m not the one who needs calming down, girl. What’s the matter?
Stella: THAT! Shhh! Don’t let it hear you! It’s a MONSTER!!!
Me: Oh, it’s all right. That a Texas Spiny Lizard. She lives in the yard, has for quite a few months now. I call her Little Buddy. She eats bugs…
Stella: You’ve been letting a monster live here? Have you lost your mind?
Me: She may look like a dinosaur, but she won’t get any bigger than a foot long and she won’t hurt any of us. We aren’t bugs.
Stella: Speak for yourself! How do you know she won’t take one look at me and think ‘Oh, there’s a big fat bug for my supper. Let me take a chunk out of that.’ Hmmm?
Me: Well, for one thing, she’s already run off. Now, if she were 10 feet long and peaking over the fence, we might have cause for concern, but Little Buddy will never get anywhere near that big…
Stella: Lady Human, stop giving pet names to monsters! Unless that name is MONSTER!