Nasty! – Conversations with the Pack

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Sweetie: What’s that on the floor? Let me eat it.

Me: NO!

Sweetie: How come? It smells delicious. Like one of your meals.

Me: No, it is not delicious. It is cat throw up. MoonCat’s delicate stomach acted up.

MoonCat: Meow. Tummy ache. Tunafish makes it all right.

Doodlebug: Why can’t we have nice treats? The cat doesn’t mind.

Me: Cat vomit is NOT, I repeat, NOT a nice treat. But why am I surprised? The Bible even says that a dog returns to its own vomit.

Sweetie: But that’s not ours. We are returning to MoonCat’s vomit. If I threw up, I would share with her.

MoonCat: Meow.

Me: Everybody just stay back while I clean this up.

Doodlebug: You see, I told you. We never get nice treats.

Copyright 2023 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Teatime – Conversations with the Pack

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Me: Teatime!

Sweetie: Nope. My stomach says it’s much too early.

MoonCat: Meow. I’ll take mine now, please.

Sweetie: Teatime is Teatime and Teatime is not now.

Me: I’m sorry, but I have a prior engagement at regular Teatime so it will have to be now.

Doodlebug: Fine with me! As long as there’s food involved, I’m all in.

MoonCat: Meow. Me, too. Make mine tunafish.

Doodlebug: Hey, early is better than late.

Sweetie: This is most irregular.

Me: Well, if you want to skip yours…

Sweetie: What? NO! I only said this was irregular. I did not say that I am insane.

Copyright 2023 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Heavy Breathing – Conversations with Stella

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Huh-ha-huh-ha-huh-ha. The air has weight, heavy and hot. It is like breathing thin warm water, but still it is air and I need it. The sky’s thick breath presses on us like a warm, wet blanket, hard to run through, hard to sleep through, hard.

Me:        Are you all right?

Stella:    Yes. But I am not happy. Send the hot away.

Me:        Not in my power. Summer has its purpose, just as spring and autumn and winter have their purposes. Every season has a reason.

Stella:    Is that one of those human rhymes, Lady Human? Really! It is too hot for rhymes.

Me:        It is too hot for anything else. And yet, this is by far not the hottest weather I have witnessed.

Stella:    I am not sure that I want to hear that story.

Me:        It was the Summer of 1980…

Stella:    Oh, no. Is this going to be a long story because, if it is, I need some popcorn.

Me:        No popcorn. Not that long.

Stella:    How about a frozen treat?

Me:        I’ll see what I can do. Anyway, it was the Summer of 1980. The temperature reached 100 degrees or more for what was it? 69 straight days?

Stella:    Are you asking me? I was not around that long ago, remember?

Me:        One day, the temperature reached 113 degrees Fahrenheit. I walked from one building to another several blocks away in downtown Dallas.

Stella:    Downtown Dallas? Is that in our backyard?

Me:        Not really. Anyway, when I got there, I laid my hand on my head. My hair was so hot, it burned my fingers to touch it. I should have worn a hat or carried an umbrella, but no, I thought, hey, no big deal!

Stella:    Scary! I am covered with hair! Is there much more to this story because, if there is, I really need popcorn.

Me:        I met a man from Italy and he was horrified that it was so hot.

Stella:    I am not from Italy, whatever that is, and I am horrified. How did the story turn out? Did you burn up?

Me:        No. I mean…obviously not, I am still here.

Stella:    So, no big deal, right? My question is what are you going to do about the hot, heavy air right now?

Me:        It was only 95 or 96 today. Just keep calm. Stay inside. Drink water.

Stella:    And keep the air conditioner running.

Me:        Amen. There was another summer that came within a day of breaking the 1980 run of 69 100 degree plus days…

Stella:    Nope. Enough. No more stories without popcorn.

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

Goodbye, Summer! – Conversations with Stella

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I hereby declare that SUMMER IS OVER! That is all.

Me:        I don’t think seasons work that way.

Stella:    Why not?

Me:        Because Earth turns at a certain pace and tilts toward the sun at a certain rate and that pretty much determines when we have summer and fall and winter and spring so…

Stella:    Wait! What is this ‘Earth’ you are talking about?

Me:        Okay…well…let’s see… Earth is the planet that we all live on.

Stella:    Oh. And what is ‘planet’?

Me:        Okay…well…let’s see…A planet is a heavenly body…this is kind of hard to explain.

Stella:    Is a planet something that the Great Creator made?

Me:        Yes! Exactly!

Stella:    Then why didn’t you just say so? Still, I am the Queen and I am declaring summer to be at an end. So there!

Me:        Don’t you think that summer should run its course, the way the Great Creator designed?

Stella:    I don’t like summer anymore. Summer is hot. We can’t stay outside very long. That cramps my style.

Me:        Sweetie likes it. She gets to bathe in the puppy pool.

Stella:    So, the rest of us have to suffer just for her to get to go swimming?

Me:        Suffer? In air conditioning? You realize that our ancestors did not have air conditioning and lived through all the Texas summers, don’t you?

Stella:    Really?

Me:        Yep.

Stella:    Hmmm. They must have been tougher than we are.

Me:        I think so. I wish we were tougher.

Stella:    Well, bulldogs are tougher than humans. Still, I declare summer to be at an end. Enough is enough. Oh, but keep the air conditioner running just in case.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Terms of Delivery – Conversations with Stella

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. And I am waiting.

Me:        Waiting for what?

Stella:    You know!

Me:        Uhhbbb, no, I don’t.

Stella:    Uhhbbb, yes, you do. Is your memory fading, Lady Human?

Me:        I don’t think so. Could you be a little more specific?

Stella:    I would be glad to, but I don’t know what ‘specific’ means.

Me:        Exactly what are you waiting for?

Stella:    Treats.

Me:        I give you treats every day.

Stella:    Not those treats. Those treats are not treaty enough.

Me:        Treaty?

Stella:    Hey, everybody else is making up new words. Treaty is mine.

Me:        You realize that ‘treaty’ is already a word that means something other than…treats.

Stella:    Beside the point. Where are my treaty treats?

Me:        Oh, the chicken jerky treats!

Stella:    Oh, now you remember!

Me:        I haven’t gotten by the store that sells them yet.

Stella:    You said you would bring them. Terms of delivery. Isn’t that what humans say? Isn’t that a promise?

Me:        Well…

Stella:    Terms of delivery, Lady Human. Where are the treats?

Me:        I haven’t had time this week.

Stella:    For shame, Lady Human! You lied to a dog!

Me:        I’ll get them. I promise.

Stella:    Too little, too late!

Me:        So, you don’t want the chicken treats?

Stella:    Did I say that?

Me:        Sort of.

Stella:    If you believe that, I have been totally misrepresented.

Me:        Misrepresented by yourself?

Stella:    Don’t try to confuse me! I am already confused enough as it is. Bring me my treats!

Me:        All right. Double effort tomorrow to get to the feed store to pick up a bag of chicken treats.

Stella:    Don’t let me down, Lady Human. Never lie to a dog!

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.