The Arrest of Doodlebug – Conversations with Stella and Doodlebug

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I hereby order the arrest of Doodlebug. Offense: Rampaging without a license. Disorderly conduct (even for a bulldog). General disobedience.

Me:        I am trying to catch him now. Can you help?

Stella:    I am not that fast, Lady Human. Sorry. He does not obey anyone. That is why you have my permission, my edict in fact, to arrest him. Take him into custody. Now. Please.

Me:        Doodle, come here!

Doodlebug:        Haha! Catch me if you can. What’s that over there?

Me:        Something that is not yours. Come here, boy!

Doodlebug:        Haha! Nope. What’s that over there?

Me:        My phone! No!

Doodlebug:        Okay. Wait. What’s this over here?

Snoopey:   Hey! My blanket! Leave it alone!

Doodlebug:   Oh, okay! Hey, what’s that?

Stella:    You know. It’s the Cat. Go, Doodlebug, go!

Me:   Stop!

Stella:    Awwww.

Me:        Doodle, stop! There! I got you. Leash arrest.

Doodlebug:   Awwww.

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Me:   Let’s go outside and run around. Get all the excess energy out.

Doodlebug:   Are you going outside, too?

Me:        Sure. I’ll go outside with you.

Doodlebug:   Will you run around?

Me:        No, not so much. Excess energy is not my particular issue.

Doodlebug:   When we come back in, will I still be under arrest?

Me:        Will you behave?

Doodlebug:        No.

Me:   Oh, all right, no. You won’t be under arrest. Never mind.

Stella:   She gives up too easily, Doodlebug. I am the Queen. Do what I say.

Doodlebug:   Mmmm. Nope.

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

The Bulldog F-Word – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogge. There are some words that people should not use, especially not in our delicate ears or the ears of human puppies. Humans have all kinds of ugly words that they use to insult other humans, insult dogs, insult cats…never mind. Insulting cats is an art form.

Me:        Are you saying that there is a bulldog F-word?

Stella:    Of course. You’ve heard it. We have discussed it before.

Me:        And what, pray tell, is that word?

Stella:    You know.

Me:        No, I don’t.

Stella:    Yes, you do. I told you before. I just didn’t admit that it was like the human F-word.

Me:        I don’t remember…

Stella:    Pffft!

Me:        Stella! Really?

Stella:    Pffft!

Me:        Why are you using your F-word at me?

Stella:    You asked for it.

Me:        Well, yes, but I didn’t think you actually had one.

Stella:    Would I lie to you?

Me:        I don’t think so.

Stella:    So, pffft!

Me:        Oh, Stella.

Stella:    What’s wrong?

Me:        Let me quote my grandmother when she heard a dirty word. “Hush! Ugly talk!”

Stella:    Your grandmother must not have been much fun to be around. Pffft!

Me:        Stella! Why are you cussing at me?

Stella:    I don’t know. Maybe because you don’t do what I want you to do.

Me:        Is that a good reason to cuss at someone?

Stella:    It’s a reason. Maybe not a good reason. Pffft.

 

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

Hiding Space – Conversations with Stella and Moon the Cat

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. SHHHHH!!!! Don’t say anything! Maybe she won’t find me. Hiding is hard when you are shaped like a four-legged, 50-pound tank. I’ll squeeze back here. Nope. That won’t work. My back half is sticking out. If I can avoid her long enough, maybe she’ll forget about me, and then the danger will pass. I can squeeze behind the couch. Hey! Cat! Move it! Bulldog coming through! Make way! What do you mean ‘meow’? Hiss!!! How about that? Does that get your attention?

Me:        Stella! Hey, Stella! Come here, girl. Just for a minute.

Stella:    Just for a minute. Huh. A likely story. I can smell it. She forgets I have a dog’s nose. A poor thing, but my own, and it serves me at times like these. If I can just…scrunch down…a little bit more…I can wait out the threat back here.

Moon the Cat:   Meooww.

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Stella:    SHHHHH!!!! Whisper!!! Don’t you understand anything? She’s got that bottle of sour-scented water in her hand.

Me:        Stellaaaa!

Moon the Cat:   Meooowww.

Stella:    SHHHHH!!!!

Moon the Cat:   Why don’t you want her to take care of your ears?

Stella:    What? You speak my language? Why haven’t you done this before?

Moon the Cat:   Bulldoggese is a difficult tongue for a cat. Very rough. It beats up my mouth. Why don’t you learn my language instead?

Stella:    A preposterous notion. The very idea!

Me:        Oh, Stella, there you are. Come here. Just for a minute.

Stella:    No. No! No!!! Now see what you’ve done, Cat!

Moon the Cat:   I helped you find the Lady Human. You are welcome.

Me:        It won’t take a second and you know it makes your ears feel better, Stella. There. That’s one ear. Now for the other.

Stella:    Eeeggghhh. Eeeggghhh! Eeeggghhh!!

Me:        You see. All done. Until next time.

Stella:    Until next time. Destroyer of hope.

Me:        What’s better? To suffer the itch and pain of ear infections or to take arms against them and, by opposing, end them.

Stella:   You made that up. Strange words from someone who does not put drops of sour water into her own ears.

Me:        Thank you, Moon, for alerting me to Stella’s whereabouts.

Moon the Cat:   Glad to have been of help. Not really. Meow.

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why Do Cats Get An Indoor Toilet? – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Bulldogs, dogs of any type really, are forced to go outside to potty, while humans and… ugh…cats get to go to the bathroom indoors. Even our parakeet, Pearl, is allowed to potty inside. This is horribly unfair, especially on bad weather days. Dogs are expected to endure heat, cold, rain, snow (whatever that is), ice (whatever that is), hurricanes, tornadoes, thunderstorms…

Me:        Okay, we get the picture. By the way, we have never had a hurricane here. By the time they get here, they’re some rain and a strong breeze and little else. And, if we do have a tornado or two or sixteen in one day like we had a few years ago, we don’t send anyone outside.

Stella:    If cats are allowed to use the toilet inside on all occasions, why aren’t we?

Me:        Think about that for a minute. Cats have an instinct to use a box or a hole and to cover up what they do. Bulldogs, on the other hand…

Stella:    Hey, I wipe my feet every time I potty.

Me:        I know. If I gave you each a litter box, would you all really use it?

Stella:    Hmmm. I would have to say…Nope, definitely not. Nope. Not bulldoggy enough. Too confining. You will never take our FREEDOM!

Me:        So, you will continue to potty outside? For the freedom?

Stella:    Of course, when you put it that way. Cats don’t know what they are missing. But then again, cats always have a warm potty.

 

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

The Giant Insect Air Force – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. We are being invaded by a huge number of giant flying insects called cicadas.

Me:        We call them ‘locusts’, but I realize some people call a grasshopper-like insect that so there may be some confusion…

Stella:    What, Lady Human, does that have to do with what is going on?

Me:        Just clarifying.

Stella:    Please don’t. You only make things more confusing. And this is confusing. A day ago, everything was nice and calm and the cicadas were here. Now they are flying around like mad, lots and lots of them, and… OW! One flew into my head!

Me:        Don’t worry. He’s okay. It didn’t faze him one bit.

Stella:    He’s okay? What about me! It fazed me!

Me:        There do seem to be a lot of them flying, more than I’ve ever seen at one time.

Stella:    They are kind of cool. Green and gold and shiny. The trees are filled with them, all singing. Is that windup toy noise their fight song?

Me:        No, it’s more like their mating call so the females can lay eggs and 17 years from now the babies can hatch out.

Stella:    Watch out! Low flying giant insect! What if I catch one?

Me:        You won’t like it. I was wearing flip flops one summer evening many years ago…

Stella:    Boring! Get to the point.

Me:        A cicada flew down and got caught between my toes and my flip flop and I couldn’t get that shoe off fast enough. It was buzzing and shaking and bumbling…

Stella:    That’s great!

Me:        No, not great! And another time a cat caught one in her mouth and liked to have gone nuts before she realized she just needed to open her mouth and let it go. That cicada scared that cat silly.

Stella:    A cicada in a cat’s mouth, huh? Lady Human…

Me:        Nope.

Stella:    But I have an idea.

Me:        Nope.

Stella:    But you haven’t heard it yet.

Me:        Don’t have to. I already know what it is.

Stella:    But it would be funny.

Me:        Not for the cat, it wouldn’t be.

Stella:    Hmmmpphh. Pooh! What good is a cicada invasion if we can’t have some fun with a cat?

Me:        If you think it’s so funny, why don’t you go ahead and pick up a cicada with your mouth and see how that works?

Stella:    No, not the same. My bulldog mouth is so large, he’d probably get lost in there and never find his way out again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Big Game Hunting – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Me:        Why are you whispering?

Stella:    SHHHHH! Sorry, that was loud. Shhhhh! Quiet!

Me:        Why are we whispering then?

Stella:    I am big game hunting. Hunters must be silent and stealthy.

Me:        Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Squirrels?

Stella:    Phhhffft. I said BIG game hunting. Squirrels? Big game? Please.

Me:        Are you hunting rats?

Stella:    What part of ‘big’ don’t you understand, Lady Human?

Me:        I’ve seen some good-sized rodents in my time.

Stella:    Bulldog sized?

Me:        Honestly, no. So, are you hunting a raccoon?

Stella:    Nope.

Me:        A possum?

Stella:    Nope.

Me:        Please say that you are not hunting a skunk.

Stella:    Lady Human, really. Do we ever have raccoons, possums, or skunks in the house?

Me:        No. Praise the LORD!

Stella:    What is the only other non-bulldog animal in the house that I could be hunting?

Me:        My parakeet, Pearl? No, surely not sweet little Pearl.

Stella:    What? A bird? No! Yuck! I said BIG GAME! I am hunting Moon the Cat. Shhhhh!

Me:        Oh, you are hunting the cat. I see…

Stella:    Shhhhh! I know where she is hiding.

Me:        Where?

Stella:    There, under the couch.

Me:        Nope.

Stella:    What do you mean? She is right there. I can smell her.

Me:        Yeah, she moved on from that spot about 30 minutes ago.

Stella:    Then what is that shadow? Aaaaggghh! Is it a giant insect that smells like a cat?

Me:        I think you are looking at a couch leg.

Stella:    It’s not the cat?

Me:        No, sorry.

Stella:    How am I ever going to be a big game hunter if I can’t track a simple cat?

Me:        For one thing, Moon is not what I would call ‘big game’.

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Stella:    She is the biggest animal here.

Me:        She weighs about 25 pounds. You weigh 50 pounds. Do the math.

Stella:    I am a bulldog. I don’t like math.

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bulldog Rampage – Conversations with Stella and the Pack

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, and here we are again at the Bulldog Rampage. I will be calling the action except for when I am chasing the cat. Coming out of the chute in order are…

Me:        Whoah! Bulldog Rampage? Not again!

Stella:    Of course, again. All right, everybody get ready. Lady Human interrupted. In order, here they come! Sweetie, Wiggles, Doodlebug, Snoopey…Snoopey…Snoopey!

Snoopey:   What?

Stella:    Rampage time!

Snoopey:   Nope.

Stella:    Why not?

Snoopey:   I’m tired.

Tiger:   You can leave me out, too. I refuse to rampage with Snoopey.

Stella:    Didn’t you hear? Snoopey is sitting out.

Tiger:   Well, in that case, I’m really sitting out. She’s not better than me.

Stella:    Fine! Here they come! Sweetie, Wiggles, Doodlebug! And me! Where is that cat?

Miss Sweetie:   Up on Tall Man’s chair! Now up on the couch! Run! Run! Uh-oh!

Stella:    Sweetie is off to a fast start with two pieces of furniture under her belt and a great sideways floor slide. Scrambling back up on her feet, she’s made it to the trash in the kitchen!

Me:        Noooo!

Stella:    Meanwhile, Doodlebug got off to a slow start, but he is making up for it by head slinging drool all across the room as he runs. Not missing a beat! Great distribution! Now where’s that cat?

Me:        She heard you coming. Rampaging is hard to hide.

Stella:    Wiggles is bringing up the rear, but she is well into her comma dancing. Real style! She shows that a bulldog does not have to jump on furniture, dig in the trash, or sling drool to rampage.

Wiggles:   Trash? There’s trash? Let me at it!

Me:        Whoah again! My legs are standing here!

Miss Sweetie:   Beep! Beep! I haven’t jumped on your chair yet! Woo-hoo!

Doodlebug:   Awww. I’m all out of drool. Let me lick my way through.

Me:        Noooo! Wet everywhere!

Stella:    Not a problem, Lady Human. It will dry. Now, where’s that cat?

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Humans are Idiots – Conversations with Stella

Stella:    What was that?

Me:        No “I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges” announcement…

Stella:    No! Lady Human, this is serious. What was that noise?

Me:        Some people are shooting off fireworks. And guns. Tomorrow is the Fourth of July. It’s a big celebration day. Remember. We talked about this before.

Stella:    The noises were never so loud before. This sounds like those lightning storms that crack the sky.

Me:        The explosions do sound closer this year. We must have some new neighbors.

Stella;    This is not neighborly! This is rude! And dangerous.

Me:        Yes. A neighbor not too far away found a spent bullet on their front porch this morning.

Stella:    Noooo! What if their dog had been sitting there?

Me:        Or their child?

Stella:    Why do humans do such things?

Me:        We’ve talked about this before, too, remember? Humans are idiots. Not all of us. And not all the time. But quite a few of us a lot of the time. A few years before you came, we had a roofing contractor out and he found two bullet holes in our roof. Bullets that had fallen from the sky, probably from miles away.

Stella:    Lady Human, you are not making me feel any better.

Me:        Bottom line, those bullets hit our roof and we did not know a thing about it. God covered us that night. I pray that He does every night.

Stella:    So we can go outside?

Me:        The Great Creator does not invite us to be foolish. We will stay in tonight.

Stella:    Look at Snoopey. She is the bravest among us and she is so scared right now.

Me:        I will take care of Snoopey. She is coming back to my room and we will watch a movie and maybe sing a quiet song.

Stella:    Hey, no fair. You are going to have a Fourth of July party without us?

Me:        No, we are going to have a nice, quiet evening where nothing extraordinary happens. No fear. No harm. Happy Fourth of July, Stella.

Stella:    Thank the Great Creator for me that we have a roof to cover us.

Me:        Amen.

Stella:    Why doesn’t the cat get scared?

Me:         Cat.

Stella:     Oh yeah. No fair.

He shall cover thee with His feathers, and under His wings shalt thou trust: His truth shall be thy shield and buckler.  Psalm 91:4 KJV

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

Stop Clucking in Our Ears! You Sound Like a Chicken! – Conversations with Stella

I, Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, guard my ears from nonsense noises and that is hard living with a pack of bulldogs. But today it was not a bulldog assaulting my ears. It was far worse than that.

It was a cat. Moon the Cat, to be precise. She was making clucking noises in Lady Human’s ear and I heard it. Clucking noises! Who does that? She is a cat! Where was the meowing that we are so often subjected to? A cat should act like a cat. Clucking is for chickens and I know that the cat has not been hanging around with them.

Me:        It was really no big deal.

Stella:    How do you define “big deal”? Since when is a cat clucking like a chicken not a big deal? Is this yet another cat/chicken conspiracy? Are cats and chickens uniting against bulldogs? Are they now speaking a common language? Is this a prelude to war? NOOOOO!!

Me:        Wait. A war between bulldogs on one side and cats and chickens on the other?

Stella:    What else can it be? A cat was clucking, Lady Human! A cat! Clucking!

Me:        I don’t think it is a real problem. I did tell Moon to stop doing it in my ear.

Stella:    There is a plot afoot. Ignore it if you will, but one day, all of us may be clucking in cat-ese like a bunch of chickens.

Me:        Flock.

Stella:    I beg your pardon?

Me:        Granted.

Stella:    Hmmmph! Cats!

Me:        Hmmmph! Bulldogs!

Stella:    What?

Me:        Nothing.

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

Bulldog Dining in Style – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Yay me!

Me:        Yay you! I have a question.

Stella:    We bulldogs are fascinating creatures. There is always a question to ask about us.

Me:        Snoopey and Tiger would rather eat food off the floor than food out of their bowls. Why?

Stella:    Why not?

 

Me:        Why not? Because food on the floor can have dirt or dog hair in it. Food on the floor can be stale, something dropped and missed a day or two ago. Food on the floor can have been stepped on by humans or dogs or, worse, by a cat.

Stella:    Ewww! I hadn’t thought of that! Cat feet!

Me:        Is that all? Cat feet? What about dirt and hair and staleness and…

Stella:    I think you have forgotten the main point, Lady Human.

Me:        Eating off the floor is the main point.

Stella:    Nope. Being a dog, and more specifically, being a bulldog is the main point.

Me:        But even a bulldog should prefer fresh food in a bowl to old nasty food on the floor. AND if they can’t find food on the floor, they deliberately spill their food out of their bowls and proceed to eat the floor food. Why? I just want to understand.

Stella:    I don’t understand the question.

Me:        You never see humans spill their food on purpose and eat it off the floor.

Stella:    So, what’s the problem?

Me:        You don’t do it.

Stella:    No, I don’t, but I am the Queen. It wouldn’t do to have the bulldogs see me eating off the floor.

Me:        So why do Tiger and Snoopey do it?

Stella:    Personal preference. Don’t you humans believe in freedom?

Me:        But why just those two?

Stella:    Maybe eating off the floor feels more like the hunt to them. They don’t really have to find food, but it is more of a challenge than kibble in a bowl, more like the old, old game of survival.

Me:        And you don’t like that game.

Stella:    Lady Human, I am far too civilized to go back to the old ways. Just keep putting my food in a shiny silver bowl, thank you. The only time I hunt is when I don’t have to.

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

Beware the Cat’s Paws! – Conversations with Stella

To all puppies in the world: I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Hello!

Today I am here to warn you in case your mothers and your negligent humans have failed to do so.

Me:        Negligent humans?

Stella:    You know what I am talking about. Humans and their little secrets. Secrets like cat’s paws!

Me:        What? What secret? Cats have paws. Surprise! Surprise!

Stella:    And what do those paws have, Lady Human? Tell the puppies of the world what those paws hide! CLAWS! Real, live CLAWS!

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Me:        Well, yeah. I guess that’s true, but…

Stella:    But nothing! Understand this, puppies! That soft padded little paw that is quietly walking your way looks like a furry cotton ball, all sweetness, but BOING! Out pop the claws. You never see them until it is too late.

Me:        Now, Stella, when has it ever been too late for you…oh, I forgot.

Stella:    You forgot, but I? Never!

Me:        You met those exposed claws because you were chasing Moon the Cat. You could have left well enough alone.

Stella:    NEVER FORGET!

Me:        The Bible tells us that there are things to remember and things to forget. I think it is time that you forget when Moon defended herself with her nails. And she could have done a whole lot worse to you than a few pinpricks on the muzzle. She showed you mercy.

Stella:    Still my warning goes out to the world of puppies! Beware the paws with hidden claws!

Me:        What about your paws – your big, heavy, slapping paws?

Stella:    My nails aren’t hidden. They are out in the open for all to see. Besides, my paw taps are love pats. You love me, don’t you?

Me:        Yes.

Stella:    Love me, love my paws.

Me:        And the cat?

Stella:    NEVER FORGET!

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

Do the Bulldog Conga – Conversations with Stella

Hello! I am Stella, still Illustrious Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, feeling a little left out the past few days as Lady Human and Tall Man have been partying with humans and have not even had the decency to bring home leftovers or include us in their human shenanigans.

Me:        I am sorry. No bulldogs were invited.

Stella:    For shame, Lady Human! A whole world of bulldogs and none were allowed. Without bulldogs, I’ll bet it was boring.

Me:        No. It was pretty fun. One of the guests pulled me into a conga line and I actually danced. Well, it was more like a slow run, but I still did it. That’s so unlike me.

Stella:    What is a ‘conga line’?

Me:        Everybody gets in a line and you put your hands on the shoulders of the person in front of you and you start moving to the music. Our line snaked around the room in between tables, and we danced until the music stopped.

Stella:    More like slow running.

Me:        Yeah, but we laughed a lot.

Stella:    Bulldogs can conga line. We put our feet on each other’s shoulders all the time. And we can slow run. We might fall off, but we can climb back on.

Me:        And someone will snarl. And someone will snap or growl. And then a fight might break out.

Stella:    Exactly, just like the humans. We would feel right at home.

Me:        It was probably better that there were no bulldogs allowed. It might have gotten overcrowded.

Stella:    We still should have been invited. That would’ve been polite.

Me:        But then we would have had to invite collies and corgis.

Stella:    I like collies and corgis.

Me:        And Labradors and poodles.

Stella:    I like Labradors and poodles.

Me:        And then we would have had to invite cats.

Stella:    NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! NO CATS ALLOWED! If cats come to a party, I won’t attend!

Me:        What’s so bad about cats at a party?

Stella:    Cats do NOT know how to conga!

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Special Me – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Illustrious Queen of the Olde English Bulldogs – not the Olde French Bulldogs (even though I love their little bodies and cute smooshy faces), not the Olde Russian Bulldogs (I think that they do not exist, so how could I be their queen?), or even the Olde American Bulldogs (as there are no “old” style American anythings. Americans are all “new style”, so there!)

Hello, humans and dogs. And cats, if any are reading this (which I doubt).

Allow me to introduce my subject of the day. ME! Me, me, me, wonderful me! Me all the time, all day and all night! Me, me, me, special bulldog me!

Why am I so special? Permit me to explain.

Me:        I know you will whether you are permitted to or not.

Stella:    Never mind Lady Human, dear readers. She is envious of my specialness.

Me:        As if that’s a real thing.

Stella:    I am special because, unlike the humans (and some dogs), I do not pay attention to the human news. What do I do instead? NAP! Try it out. It is wonderful. If I don’t feel like napping through the human news, I snack. That is why I always save a little bit of my food for later, unlike the other bulldogs who seem to think that woofing it all down in a few minutes is the way to go. If I don’t like what I am hearing on the human news, I can drown it out with crunching. I recommend it, humans. Crunching good food drowns out a lot of other noise.

Do you know why else I am special?

Me:        I await with bated breath.

Stella:    Bated breath? Is that like bulldog breath after Doodlebug has eaten something that he shouldn’t have? Because if it is that, ewww! Not interested!

Me:        No, it means I can’t wait to hear what else you have to say about your specialness.

Stella:    Well, in that case, let me tell you. I am special because Lady Human lets me come into her room and she helps me get up on her bed and she doesn’t mind if I start flipping around and get really excited and grin a lot and even drool (a little – I am not a big time drooler) and I breathe heavily and lick her and step on her. She doesn’t mind if I think her room stinks of weird smells and I want to leave suddenly. She does not take it personally. And so, there it is. I am special.

Me:        Yes, you are.

Stella:    You think so, too!

Me:        Yes, and some day, if you are ready for a good cry, I will tell you all the reasons why, I believe, God Most High brought you to me. Special me.

Stella:    I would like to hear that, Lady Human. But meanwhile, it’s not special you. It’s Special Me.

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

What is Friday and Why Do The Humans Go Crazy Over It? – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Hello, humans and everyone else! It is Friday. So what? The humans seem to put a great deal of stock in this day every week. Why? Is this just another silly human tradition? Today looked like any other day to me, except that Lady Human made a special trip out to get cat food.

Me:        You weren’t upset when I make a special trip to pick up your food.

Stella:    Of course not. That is necessary. But cat food? Why can’t the cat eat our food, not that I am giving any of our food away, but really? A special food for cats? Why couldn’t you have picked hers up at the same time you picked ours up?

Me:        Are you truly so concerned with efficiency? Making one trip instead of two?

Stella:    No. I don’t care, except I don’t like it when you go off on errands and we have to stay at home.

Me:        Every time I come home, all I hear when I open the door is bulldog snoring. It’s not as though you are sitting there waiting for me.

Stella:    It is called ‘using time wisely’. Why stare at a wall when you can get a good nap in?

Me:        To answer your question, I have to go to a different place entirely to pick up the cat’s food. She has a sensitive stomach and can’t eat just any old thing.

Stella:    Of course she can! We have sensitive stomachs and you don’t see us holding back. We eat any old thing we find outside. Found food is the best kind. But…

Me:        But?

Stella:    Friday.

Me:        Friday?

Stella:    The humans make such a big deal about Friday. What is Friday?

Me:        Friday is the last workday of the week for many humans. Then the two-day weekend starts.

Stella:    So? Every day is the same. Giving a day a name doesn’t make it special. Just like you giving the cat a name doesn’t change her into a dog.

Me:        Friday has a special feel to it for people who don’t work on Saturday and Sunday. Lot of humans go out to eat or go to a movie or visit friends, stuff like that. Others just chill out. Evening is the beginning of Sabbath when some gather with family and friends to worship and to consider the things of God.

Stella:    And you go to buy special cat food. That is sad, Lady Human, really sad. You could at least buy bulldog treats or something useful like that instead.

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Watch Where You’re Walking; It’s a Jungle Out There – Conversations with Stella

Stella:    Lady Human, why are you lying on the ground? It is dirty. And why is red stuff dripping from your nose? And why are you carrying that silly little light in your hand?

Me:        I was out here with a flashlight, looking for Doodlebug in the dark. I called and called and he didn’t come. Then I tripped over a fallen branch and hit my nose on the ground. How’s that for a story?

Stella:    That’s a stupid story. It has no point.

Me:        I think the point is to watch where you’re walking, especially in the dark. And carry a big flashlight.

Stella:    I hear Doodlebug. He’s chewing on something behind the chicken run.

Me:        Uhhh. You know what he said when I fell. “Hmph. Hmph.” Literally. That’s all he said.

Stella:    That’s what I would have said.

Me:        He hasn’t even come over to check on me.

Stella:    Well, you are a human. You have great big human power. But get up! You look like Wiggles does when she’s been rolling around in the dirt. Long, round, and lazy. Like a hot dog. By the way, do you have a hot dog on you?

Me:        Why would I have a hot dog on me when I was out here looking for Doodlebug in the dark?

Stella:    I don’t know. A barbecue could’ve broken out. Do I need to drag you back into the house, bulldog style?

Me:        No, I’ll be all right once I stop my bloody nose. I don’t think you could pull me in by yourself anyway.

Stella:    How insulting! You have no idea what I can do in an emergency.

Me:        You can do one thing for me. You can pull Doodlebug inside for me.

Stella:    Sure thing, Lady Human. I just need a little incentive. You wouldn’t happen to have a hot dog on you, would you?

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

The Cat Has Friggin’ Eye Lasers! – Conversations with Stella

Lady Human, I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges…

Me:        I know who you are.

Stella:    This is an official request. You must call your human government now. This is an emergency. I think it may be even more serious than when the giant insects attacked.

Me:        Stella, we’ve gone over this. No giant insects ever attacked. Never, ever, ever. Now tell me what’s wrong.

Stella:    Shhhh! Whisper! She’ll hear us.

Me:        Who will hear us?

Stella:    Moon, the cat.

Me:        What will she hear?

Stella:    That I saw the lasers in her eyes. Call the army people. They need to know. We can’t be sure when she will use them. She has kept them a secret for a long time.

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Me:        What you saw were the natural reflectors in her eyes, not lasers.

Stella:    No, they were lasers, just like on those Star Trek shows that you are always watching and watching and watching and watching…

Me:        On Star Trek, they use phasers.

Stella:    Whatever they are called. The shiny, beamy things.

Me:        Stella, stop worrying. I’ve seen Moon’s eye beams before. Cats have reflectors in their eyes that help them gather light so that they can hunt better in the dark. God made them that way.

Stella:    Why didn’t He give us that equipment?

Me:        You will have to ask Him. He did not give that to humans either. But He did give you all those wonderful noses.

Stella:    I would prefer eye lasers.

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

Pouting Is An Art Form – Conversations with Stella

Hello. I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, and I will not be saying much today because I am pouting and, to be effective, pouting must be done correctly. So there. Hmph!

Me:        Pouting. Pouting about what?

Stella:    Hmph!

Me:        Stella, what’s got you all pouty?

Stella:    Paahrrrr!

Me:        I see you blowing your cheeks out.

Stella:    Paahrrrr!

Me:        Here let me try. Pruhhh!

Stella:    No, not like that. It has to be done right to get a reaction. Like this – Paahrrrr! Blow your cheeks out more. Not so much lip fluttering.

Me:        Why so pouty?

Stella:    Hmph. I don’t have to answer that question.

Me:        Oh-kay. Well, I’m going to read a little and then take a nap. See you later.

Stella:    NOOOO! I AM POUTING. WATCH ME POUT!

Me:        I wonder if there is something good on TV. No, probably not.

Stella:    PAY ATTENTION! Pouting is no good unless somebody watches you do it. NO ONE CAN POUT ALONE!

Me:        I am glad you told me the rules. Now, if you’ll excuse me…

Stella:    NO! No excusing. Watch me pout. Pay attention to ME! I AM MAD! Well, not mad. I don’t want anyone to think that I am a “mad dog” because people don’t like “mad dogs” and I’m not a “mad dog”. I have had all my shots and…

Me:        I thought you weren’t going to talk much today. How about just admitting that you are pouting because I won’t let you jump on the cat and she is over on the couch right now, resting on her cat bed.

Stella:    Hmph! Pout. Pout. Pout. Hmph! All these people talking about a dog’s purpose. I’ll tell you what this bulldog’s purpose is – to chase that cat. And to pout when I don’t get my way. So here I am – Stella, the Cat-Chasing, Cat-Catching, Cat-Scratched, Pouting-Like-a-Boss Bulldog, being kept from fulfilling my bulldog purpose. Mwaah!

Me:        Hey, how about a treat?

Stella:    Sure! Give it here! You know napping may be one of my other purposes. I’ll pursue that one for a little while and get back to the other ones later.

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Don’t You Dare Build That Wall! – Conversations with Stella

I, Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, hereby decree that the humans are forbidden from building a wall to keep me off the cat’s couch bed!

Me:        How about this? I hereby decree that you are forbidden from jumping on the cat’s bed again!

Stella:    Are you a queen? If you are not an official queen, you are not authorized to issue any decrees.

And who jumped on the cat? When did this happen?

Me:        Stella, you know what you did.

Stella:    She teased me. She mocked me with her little meowy voice.

Me:        I was right there. I heard no teasing.

Stella:    Yeah, well, I think your hearing is not as sharp as it used to be. You seem tuned out to cat noises.

Me:        I saw you staring at her and you ignored me when I called you. What you were planning was written all over your face.

Stella:    What? Who’s been writing on my face?

Me:        Before I could move to block you, up you went on the couch, standing over poor ole Moon, freaking her out of her cat mind…

Stella:    Not hard to do. She’s too sensitive. I didn’t even drool on her. This time.

Me:        And then you struck that pose that looked like you had just conquered Everest.

Stella:    Everest? Is that another cat?

Me:        No, it’s a big mountain. And yes, I am building a barrier so you can’t access the cat’s bed. Ever since you did that, the cat has been sticking to all her highest places.

Stella:    Like Everest? That’s all right. I can learn to mountain climb. Go ahead and build your wall, Lady Human. If I can climb a mountain, I can climb a wall.

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

Are You Turning Into a Cat? – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella. I am a queen. I am an Olde English Bulldogge. At least I know what I am. Lady Human, on the other hand, is acting weird.

Me:        Weird how? I’m not acting weird. I’m just being me.

Stella:    Why are you playing with string?

Me:        String? No, this is yarn. I am crocheting.

Stella:    It looks like string. You know who plays with string, don’t you? CATS! That’s who!

Me:        Well, this is crocheting and I am not a cat.

Stella:    Cat is as cat does.

Me:        Stella, humans don’t just turn into cats. Or dogs. This is crocheting. It is a human activity.

Stella:    Looks suspiciously like cat string play to me.

Me:        I was planning on making you a sweater. Does that sound like something a cat would do?

Stella:    Yes, a sneaky cat trying to tangle me up in a string ball.

Me:        I’m no cat and I am not trying to tangle you up in anything. I thought you might like a sweater for this cold weather.

Stella:    A sweater. That would be nice. Are you making one for yourself? We could be twins.

Me:        No, I have sweaters.

Stella:    What about one for Tall Man? We don’t want him to get cold.

Me:        No, not for Tall Man. Truthfully, my crocheting is not quite good enough for human tastes yet.

Stella:    Wait! Are you making a goofy sweater out of string to put on me? Am I an… what is that human word? An experiment? Am I an experiment? NOOOO!

Me:        If it doesn’t turn out or if it doesn’t fit, you don’t have to wear it.

Stella:    Promise?

Me:        Promise.

Stella:    All right. Deal. So long as you don’t keep taking up cat habits. And if you can make a sweater out of string, can you, maybe, when you have time…can you make me a crown?

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Quiet! Don’t Speak! I’ll Do the Talking – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen and Illustrious Old English Bulldogge, and I demand to know what you were up to for most of the day, Lady Human. You were not responding to our beck and call. What is beck anyway?

Me:        I was resting.

Stella:    Why are you whispering?

Me:        I have laryngitis.

Stella:    Really? May I have some?

Me:        Laryngitis means my vocal chords are inflamed and I have lost my voice.

Stella:    Inflamed! Who set them on fire? Let me at ‘em! I’ll teach them not to set things that are not theirs on fire! Where did you lose your voice? Was it in the back yard? I can organize the bulldogs into a search party. Point us in the right direction and we will find your voice for you. Of course, I will have to make clear that no one is to eat it if they find it. You know how bulldogs are.

Me:        Yes. As in Miss Sweetie eating the paper towel.

Stella:    Sweetie is too young to have good taste yet. At least her stomach had the good sense to throw it up.

Me:        I’ll need your help until my voice comes back.

Stella:    Your quiet, indoor voice whispering will be fine. You know how obedient we are…Right? Lady Human?…Oh, I understand. You are being quiet because your voice is still lost out there in the yard. Never fear. I will use my royal voice on your behalf.

Me:        Okay, first things first. No cat chasing.

Stella:    I beg your pardon.

Me:        You have it since you are the main cat chaser.

Stella:    I’m sorry. I couldn’t quite hear that.

Me:        You heard me, Stella.

Stella:    No. You are speaking so quietly.

Me:        Then let me repeat myself.

Stella:    Please don’t.

Me:        No cat chasing. That stirs everyone up and is not helpful to me at all.

Stella:    Cat chasing is a tradition among my people. You would not interfere with a cultural tradition, would you? Of course not.

Me:        Stella!

Stella:    Wow! Your whispers can be very loud.

 

 

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.