So, Chickens Are Good for Something – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Chickens live in our yard. Why? Lady Human will not let us chase them or eat them. What good are they? Fluffy white little weird two-legged things that have wings but cannot fly, that make loud squawky noises but never say anything intelligent. It’s almost like they are cats.

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Me:        Why are you so down on the chickens? I’ve seen you standing out there staring at them.

Stella:    Because they are funny-looking and funny smelling. And their pointy faces look angry all the time, so I keep waiting for them to tell me why. As queen, I may be able to do something about their complaints.

Me:        Are you now going to be queen of the Silkie Chickens?

Stella:    Hmmm. If they need a queen, I would be willing to serve. But they would have to stop being so weird.

Me:        They don’t think that they are weird. They just think that they are chickens.

Stella:    What is that you have there? Eggs?

Me:        Yes.

Stella:    That doesn’t look like the eggs that they have kicked at us in the yard.

Me:        Those were raw. These are hard boiled. I cooked them.

Stella:    How horrible! Lady Human, you cooked the chickens’ babies? NO!

Me:        We talked about this, Stella. These eggs were never going to be baby chickens. There is no rooster. That means there is no daddy. These eggs will just stay eggs. I didn’t notice you and the others refraining from the eggs that they kicked at you. Where was your outrage then?

Stella:    We figured that any eggs they kicked out couldn’t be their babies so…Wait, what are you giving Wiggles, and Sweetie, and Tiger, and Doodlebug?

Me:        I just peeled the shells off the cooked eggs. Would you like to try one?

Stella:    Well, if you’re giving them away…I guess I could taste one…just one.

Me:        Here.

Stella:    Where have these been all my life? More. More! MORE!

Me:        One is enough for now. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing. What do you have to say about chickens now?

Stella:    How many chickens are there?

Me:        Six.

Stella:    And how many of these things can they lay?

Me:        About one a day. Sometimes they skip a day.

Stella:    So where are all the eggs they have been laying?

Me:        We and our human neighbors have a claim on them, too, you know.

Stella:    Not anymore.

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

The Saw Monster is Loose – Conversations with Stella and the Pack

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Stay away! Stay away! Everybody stay away!

Me:        There’s not a problem, Stella.

Stella:    Yes, there is! The Saw Monster is eating a tree.

Me:        Well, everyone should stay away from the backyard until the tree trimming is done. That’s true.

Stella:    The Saw Monster is loose! Beware! The Saw Monster is loose! Oh, no! Tall Man is out there! Warn him!

Me:        If you’ll notice, Tall Man has hold of the…what did you call it? The Saw Monster. It is a tool that he uses to trim the trees.

Wiggles:   I need to go potty.

Me:        That’s going to have to wait a little until he is finished with the tree. That limb he cut off was stretching way out over the yard. He was concerned that it was going to crack and fall on one of us some day. He is cutting it away and chopping it up, so nobody gets hurt.

Tiger:   Won’t the tree be hurt?

Me:        No, it’s a pecan tree. Pecans self-prune all the time. It was only a matter of time before it dropped that limb. It has done it before.

Miss Sweetie:    I think we should thank Tall Man for saving our lives.

Me:        I think so, too.

Miss Sweetie:    I don’t want any ole tree dropping anything on me, unless it is something to eat.

Doodlebug:   If any old tree dropped anything on me, boy, it’d be sorry. I’d just eat that ole tree up myself.

Miss Sweetie:    Hush up, Doodle. You don’t know anything about trees.

Stella:    Or Saw Monsters. Watch out for Saw Monsters. How do we know that Tall Man is all right out there? I hear the Saw Monster going to town.

Me:        He is wearing protective equipment, even chainsaw chaps on his legs in case the saw slips.

Stella:    The saw can slip? I told you he should not be out there by himself! Everybody, get ready to charge. We’re taking over! The humans do not know what they are doing!

Me:        Nope! Nobody is going anywhere. No interference. You will stay in here where it is safe until he is finished.

Wiggles:   What about potty?

Me:        I’ll take you out on the other side of the yard. Nobody will miss potty time.

Stella:    You’d better believe it. No Saw Monster is cutting into my bathroom break.

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Are You a Lefty or a Righty? – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I have four paws while Lady Human only has two because that is all the Great Creator gave her. I think that was a mistake.

Me:        I would hesitate to say that our Creator made a mistake. And to be precise, I have two hands, not two paws.

Stella:    Same difference.

Me:        Not so much.

Stella:    I feel cheated.

Me:        How come?

Stella:    Look at all the stuff you can do with your paws…

Me:        Hands.

Stella:    Whatever. You have those long, long toes…

Me:        Fingers.

Stella:    Whatever. And when you pet me and scratch me, instead of using both paws…I know, hands…you just use one and it’s almost always that one.

Me:        My left hand. I am left-handed.

Stella:    Sounds to me like an excuse for laziness.

Me:        Don’t you prefer to use one paw over another?

Stella:    Well, my front paws I use about the same, but my rear paws I use for convenient scratching, one for one side and the other for the other. I’m not sure about this left thing you talk about.

Me:        Humans tend to favor one side over the other when it comes to hands. To be perfectly honest, I am ambidextrous.

Stella:    I thought you were human.

Me:        I am. Ambidextrous means that I can use both hands equally. I had to choose one over the other when I was a kid. The school I attended wouldn’t allow me to use both.

Stella:    What? The sillies! I knew I was being cheated. Game changer. Go back to being ambidextrous, Lady Human! I need both your hands all the time.

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Snooty is as Snooty Does – Conversations with Stella and the Pack

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I rule.

Tiger:     Yeah, if you call snooting around, sashaying, and sticking your nose in the air ruling.

Stella:    I’m not snooty. You’re snooty.

Tiger:     No, you are!

Stella:    No, you are!

Wiggles:   It’s a tie. You both are.

Stella:   I am the queen. What I say goes!

Tiger:     Okay, about this whole queen thing. How did that even happen? I don’t remember voting.

Stella:    Nobody votes for queens. It just happens. I was born that way.

Miss Sweetie:    I was born a queen, too, Aunt Stella.

Stella:    No, Sweetie. You’re a nice bulldog, but you are not the queen.

Miss Sweetie:    Why not? I can sashay…a little. I can stick my nose in the air. I can snoot around.

Stella:    That is not what a queen is.

Miss Sweetie:    That’s what a queen looks like to me. Just like you and Aunt Tiger. Snooty.

Stella:    Sweetie! How rude!

Doodlebug:   Rude, but true.

Miss Sweetie:    I still love you, Aunt Stella, snooty stubby nose and all.

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

But We Already Have a Garbage Can – Conversations with Stella and Wiggles

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Wiggles:   And I am Wiggles, Destroyer of Garbage.

Me:        Yeah, I know. I found the remains.

Wiggles:   Isn’t it cool?

Me:        No, it is not cool.

Wiggles:   Waste not, want not. Isn’t that what smart humans say? I don’t know what that means, but it sounds good.

Me:        When I throw something away, there is a reason and I expect it to stay thrown away.

Wiggles:   And it did stay thrown away, Lady Human. It stayed thrown away in my stomach.

Stella:    Why don’t I get these gourmet opportunities?

Me:        Since when is garbage a gourmet opportunity?

Stella:    Since it came home in a paper bag and smelled delicious. Paper bags are bulldog clues. They always carry delicious leftovers as you humans call them. What was in that bag?

Me:        What I failed to eat of a sub sandwich.

Stella:    Sandwich. Mmmm. Let me guess. Bread. Meat. Fragrant sauce. Why did you not offer that to me? Why was I not favored with special garbage?

Me:        It’s not good for you. I can count on you not to nose through the trash. I can’t count on Wiggles. I forgot. My mistake.

Wiggles:   Awww. But I disposed of the garbage for you. I am a helpful dog. Think how much less garbage would be on Earth if you just let me run through it.

Me:        You may have a point. You might qualify as the environmental wonder of the world. Still…the upset stomach…

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Wiggles:   Oh, I forgot about that. All right. I’ll just rummage through our own trash. That will still be a big help.

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

The Stealth Spa – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Relaxing, chilling, getting a massage on Lady Human’s bed, calm and collected. I could do this all day every day. Hey! What was that?

Me:        What?

Stella:    No, I said what. Never mind. This is my favorite time of day, unless, of course, it is bedtime when I get almost all the back scratching I want. Almost. Hey, what was that?

Me:        What?

Stella:    Why do you keep asking the same question I am? Are you playing a weird game?

Me:        Umm…

Stella:    Wait! Why are you scratching my belly with just one hand? Where is your other hand? My care and maintenance require two hands. What are you hiding there?

Me:        Nothing important.

Stella:    Aha! I see it. Those nasty nail clippers! Lady Human, for shame! You lied to a dog.

Me:        When did I lie?

Stella:    Hiding toenail clippers during a spa session is a physical lie.  You don’t tell it with your tongue. You tell it with your sneaky, sneaky hand.

Me:        You are always so laid back during massage time, I just thought I would take advantage of the calm and do a little trimming.

Stella:    Lady Human, for shame again! Taking advantage of a bulldog’s good nature and love of belly scratching!

Me:        Why can’t I see some of that bulldog good nature when I need to trim your nails?

Stella:    After the first clip or two, it’s all used up.

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

New Rule – No More Dog Parks – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I hereby issue a new rule. From now on and forevermore, no pack member shall visit any dog park. This rule also applies to Lady Human.

Me:        Wait just a New York minute here…

Stella:    Nope. No waiting. The rule goes into effect immediately. I don’t know how long a New York minute is, but I don’t think it is shorter than immediately.

Me:        Your rules do not apply to me. I am a human.

Stella:    All the more reason.

Me:        Is this about that incident by the lake last week? That was not a dog park.

Stella:    All parks with dogs in them are dog parks.

Me:        Well, you may have a point there. You see, I don’t take y’all to dog parks because, honestly, I can’t always count on your behavior.

Stella:    You have taken me to those wilderness places for what you mysteriously refer to as ‘camping’. Aren’t those parks?

Me:        Yes, but there is a lot more space and all dogs are required to stay on short leashes.

Stella:    Although I am reliable, I agree with your point about counting on the good behavior of the others. I mean, Tiger? In public? Really? Remember those tense vet visits?

Me:        Oh, yes. Tiger is definitely not pleased in crowds of dogs. And Snoopey…

Stella:    Rest in peace.

Me:        …was a people dog, but other dogs?

Stella:    Not so much. Therefore, I have taken care of the problem. No more dogs in parks…period. And no more Lady Human in parks. Thus, you avoid making yourself a target for random leg hikers. At least none of us do THAT to you.

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved

 

 

Why Do Cats Get Special Food? – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Sure, we bulldogs get food. Lady Human measures it out to us every morning. She says the white coat lady whom she calls Vet (humans have such bizarre names) says that we should not eat too much, or we will get fat. Very well. But why shouldn’t we get special food, especially if we are not allowed to overeat?

Me:        What special food are you talking about?

Stella:    You can’t fool me.

Me:        I didn’t know that I was trying to fool you.

Stella:    I see when you sneak great smelling stuff into the cat’s bowl, ignoring the rest of us.

Me:        Great smelling stuff like…tuna fish? Salmon? Really?

Stella:    Just proof that you don’t love us as much as you love Moon the Cat…wait, sorry, MOONCAT.

Me:        You’ve gotten special salmon dog food before.

Stella:    When?

Me:        I don’t remember. Sometime.

Stella:    If it didn’t happen in the last ten minutes, it didn’t happen. Step up your game, Lady Human. Do you eat the same thing every day?

Me:        Yeah, until the leftovers are gone.

Stella:    Leftovers? What are leftovers?

Me:        Something a bulldog would never experience.

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Right Reserved.

 

 

Eat Some Grass – Conversations with Stella and the Pack

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. When I am in Lady Human’s room, all kinds of interesting things can happen. For example, when stuff came out of her mouth, she looked very much like a bulldog.

Miss Sweetie:    Was it drool? Because drool comes out of my mouth all the time.

Me:        No, Sweetie, it wasn’t drool. I wasn’t feeling well and…

Stella:    She did that gagging, spitting thing that we do when our stomachs don’t set right. No big deal.

Me:        Big deal to me. I don’t like throwing up.

Tiger:     Stella is right for once, and ONLY ONCE! No big deal. Next time, eat some grass.

Me:        I don’t think that is a human thing.

Doodlebug:   There’s a good patch of grass out behind the old tree stump.

Me:        How do I know it is not a patch you have all peed on?

Tiger:     Simple. Use your nose.

Wiggles:   There’s another good patch in front of where the chickens live. Don’t get too close though. They’ve been kicking their food out and all that leftover chicken food is mine. As for grass, pick the long stuff, but make sure to chew it up good.

Me:        Thanks for the tips, everybody. I’m all better now. No grass needed.

Stella:    Personally, I prefer pumpkin, but grass is free and easy to come by.

Me:        I appreciated how you stuck by me during my trouble, Stella. Sitting there on the bed, leaning against me.

Stella:    No problem, Lady Human. Dogs are not bothered by such natural things. Just remember next time – eat some grass.

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

Stop Calling Me ‘Miss Priss’! – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Spring has returned, and the days have been lovely and cool…

Tiger:     Halt! Stop! Enough! Too much!

Stella:    How dare you interrupt your queen!

Tiger:     Queen nothin’! Who do you think you are?

Stella:    I think that I am the Queen. I think that I am Stella.

Tiger:     So, I came in from outside and I was all playful and prancing and I greeted you and what did you do?

Stella:    Nothing important.

Tiger:     You puffed out your cheeks at me and then you called me, “Miss Priss” and said I was prissing around, whatever that means. So rude! And all I was doing was being friendly.

Me:        And Tiger, you locked eyes with her. And Stella, you locked eyes with Tiger. And friendly came to an abrupt stop.

Stella:    Yeah, Miss Priss. As queen, I decree that Tiger’s name is no longer Tiger, but she shall henceforth be known as ‘Miss Priss’.

Tiger:     There she goes again, Lady Human! My name is Tiger. Stop trying to change everybody’s name!

Stella:    If the prissy name fits, wear it.

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

A Cat By Any Other Name – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. By my authority as Queen, I hereby bestow on our feline, Moon the Cat, a new name.

Me:        “Our feline”? I thought you had eternal enmity for cats. A new name? There are so many things wrong with this picture., I don’t know where to begin.

Stella:    Then let me begin. Our cat shall henceforth and forever be known to all as “MOONCAT”. After all, she is the color of the moon in the sky, all dark gray and light gray and medium gray.

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Me:        No more Moon the Cat? She’s been called that since she’s been with us, many years before you came.

Stella:    Just because someone has been called a name for a long time does not mean that they have to be stuck with it.

Me:        Doesn’t Moon the Cat have a say-so in this?

Stella:    I will inform her of the change later. Mooncat will not object. Consider it, Lady Human. Would you like to be called, “Lady THE Human”?

Me:        No.

Stella:    You see?

Me:        Since neither Lady nor Human are part of my name.

Stella:    Then why do I call you that?

Me:        It’s just a thing between you and me. Let me ask you this. Would you like to be called “Stelladog”?

Stella:    Of course not. How silly! If I were to be called anything other than Queen Stella or Your Majesty, it would be STELLABULLDOG. I hope I have made that perfectly clear.

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

We Live in TAXES – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. We live in Taxes. The humans around here seem to be proud of that.

Me:        Texas. We live in Texas, not taxes. Taxes are something completely different.

Stella:    Sounds the same to me.

Me:        Texas is a geographic area that is a state within the United States of America. You can live in it. You can walk on it. It is ground and water and air and history and weather and types of special foods and drinks. For us, it is home.

Stella:    It is this house and this ground?

Me:        It is this house and ground and lots of other houses and ground.

Stella:    So, what are these taxes that the humans are talking about?

Me:        Taxes are money that various governments bill people and businesses to pay the expenses of…well, government.

Stella:    Government?

Me:        People like presidents and Congress and legislatures and governors and kings and queens…

Stella:    Queens?

Me:        Yes, where they have such leaders.

Stella:    You mean, all this time, I could have been billing people and they would have paid me. Wow. Think of all the treats I could have gotten.

Me:        But you are the queen of some bulldogs. You wouldn’t be able to tax people.

Stella:    Aw. That won’t work. These bulldogs of mine are broke. Pffft! Never mind.

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

Watch the Way I Walk – Conversations with Stella and the Pack

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I walk like a queen.

Me:        If a queen sashays, you do.

Stella:    Sashay? You mean when I walk all fancy with my whole body shifting back and forth and back and forth.

Tiger:     Yes, it’s disgusting. Please stop it. I can’t watch it anymore.

Stella:    How rude! Show me more respect! I am your queen!

Tiger:     I still haven’t figured out how that happened.

Wiggles:   Look at me. I can walk funny, too!

Stella:    That’s a comma dance. And who are you calling ‘funny’? Your walk is not a sashay. My style is more dignified and, dare I say it, ladylike.

Me:        You mean human?

Stella:    No! Heaven forbid! I am a bulldog. Why would I want to be like a human?

Doodlebug:        How about my walk?

Me:        Yeah, Doodle. Your stallion walk on your hind legs is something else.

Stella:    Cute, but only one of those tricks the humans love because it makes you look like them, all sassy on their hind legs.

Me:        Humans don’t have hind legs.

Miss Sweetie:    Look at my walk, Aunt Stella. I can sashay, too. My rear end moves this way and my rear end moves that way. And my rear end moves…

Stella:    I get the picture. Sorry, Sweetie. That is just walking, regular old everyday walking. Walking is great, but only a true queen can sashay, and I am a true queen, despite the fact that my head is still lacking a crown. Hint, hint, Lady Human.

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Ruckus or Rampage – Conversations with Stella and the Pack

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Me:        Well, Your Majesty. I could use your help.

Stella:    Your Majesty? About time I got the respect I deserve. What can I help you with, human peasant?

Me:        I beg your pardon?

Stella:    Granted. I am always happy to be gracious. What is your petition?

Me:        Help me when the others start to rampage.

Stella:    Rampage?

Miss Sweetie:    You know, Aunt Stella. When we suddenly jump up and run around like mad and climb on the furniture, which is for us anyway. I don’t know why everybody wants us to stay off of it.

Doodlebug:        And we dive into the rag box and pull stuff out and chase the cat if the cat is to be found. If not, we pretend to chase the cat full speed.

Wiggles:   I thought that was a ruckus.

Tiger:     No, a ruckus is just a lot of noise. A rampage is the real thing. Out of control. Wild. Bulldoggy. Woo hoo!

Me:        What causes a rampage? Or a ruckus?

Doodlebug:   It just seems the thing to do sometimes.

Miss Sweetie:    I like to rampage after my breakfast digests. More energy.

Tiger:     I prefer to ruckus. Louder but less effort.

Wiggles:   I just need to know. If I charge the cat potty box, is that a rampage or a ruckus?

Me:        That’s a no-no.

Wiggles:   Okay, so it’s a rampage then. Let’s go!

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018  H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

An Easter Norther Stole Our Spring – Conversations with Stella and the Pack

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Yesterday it was what the humans call Spring. Today it is what I call freaking cold. Spring ran away. I guess it is afraid of the cold wind.

Me:        Yesterday the temperature was in the 80’s. Today it’s been in the 30’s. Welcome to Texas.

Miss Sweetie:    Why, Lady Human, why? The sky is blank. I can’t have a sunbath without a sun.

Me:        The Easter Norther was a week late this year.

Stella:    Easter Norther? Is that yet another horrible human invention? Are crazy people running things?

Me:        Nope. No human is in charge of the Easter Norther. Even after Spring has sprung, we usually get one last cold front right before Easter. I guess this one took the long way around.

Tiger:     My toes are cold. They were warm and now they are cold. This is a mysterious mystery. Who stole our Spring? And what is Spring anyway? And do we want it back? And how do we get it back if we do? These are questions that need answers.

Wiggles:   Please turn off the fans!

Me:        All the fans are off.

Wiggles:   Not the ones outside. They are blowing like the cold boxes in summer.

Me:        That’s the North Wind.

Doodlebug:        Well, Miss Easter Norther North Wind can keep her little jokes to herself from now on. Where is she anyway? I want to have a few words with her.

Me:        An Easter Norther can’t have a conversation. It is a weather front. It has no mouth.

Stella:    Of course, it does. It’s been spitting in my face all day long.

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beware The Angry Oak – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Tall Man has made the oak tree angry. It is shaking its arms at us. Scary!

Me:        I don’t see any anger. It seems rather calm to me.

Stella:    How would you feel if someone went buzz buzz and cut off your branches?

Me:        Those branches were scraping the roof. If left alone, they would have damaged the roof, maybe even caused a leak.

Stella:    But when I go out, the oak tree shakes its leaves at me. It knows, Lady Human! IT KNOWS!

Me:        That is the breeze. If you think about it, the oak tree shakes its leaves at you every day except in the dead of summer.

Stella:    No, the oak tree is truly angry. Tall Man should have asked for permission before he used his buzz saw.

Me:        I promise you that the oak is healthy and now those limbs will never break, and the roof is safe.

Stella:    Who cares about a roof?

Me:        Have you ever lived under a leaky one?

Stella:    Yes.

Me:        Okay, well, since you came here, have you ever been under a leaky roof?

Stella:    No. Oh. I see. Leaky roofs aren’t so great. But what are we going to do about the angry oak? What if it starts moving closer to the door?

Me:        That is not the way of trees, Stella. Trees pretty much stay put.

Stella:    If you say so, I guess I have to take your word for it. Still, I am going to keep an eye on that tree. Just hand me that saw. Everybody has a right to self-defense.

Me:        Let’s see. Dog with a chainsaw. Nope.

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

My Job Is To Stay With You – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I sleep in Lady Human’s room, in her bed and in my special space by her bed. It is soft and comfortable and, since she stopped stinking up her room with the smelly mist machine, it has been enjoyable.

Me:        I like my essential oil diffuser.

Stella:    I don’t, so not important. What I like best of all is that for a few weeks now, she lets me return to the room after the morning break, and I rest, and nap and she reads stuff and answers something that humans call “email”. Humans are always making up new words for unimportant stuff.

Me:        Well, at some point each day, we must exit my room and emerge into the larger world.

Stella:    Why?

Me:        There are things to do.

Stella:    What?

Me:        Stuff. Like washing dishes and clothes. Like running errands including buying dog food and treats. Important stuff.

Stella:    It can wait.

Me:        You would wait for food and treats? I don’t think so.

Stella:    I want to stay with you. I want to lie in bed and stretch and snore. The others can wait. They are fine. And you will always have food for us. Let’s stay in your room.  Let’s just live there.

Me:        It won’t work for long, Stella. Things have to be done to keep things running smoothly.

Stella:    Let others take care of that. Tall Man. He can do the shopping. Tiger can take care of the pack.

Me:        That means you won’t be the queen anymore.

Stella:    Huh?

Me:        Well, if you are going to live in my room and only come out to use the bathroom, somebody else will have to take over.

Stella:    But I am the Queen. No one else can be the Queen.

Me:        Queens have jobs to do.

Stella:    Why can’t my job be to sleep in on your softy bed all day? That seems to be my perfect job description.

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

Pounding Paws – Conversations with Stella

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

Me:        Mmhmm.

Stella:    Lady Human! Pound. Pound. Pound.

Me:        Oh, Stella. Why? I’m trying to take a nap.

Stella:    No! You must pay attention to me! Pound. Pound. Pound.

Me:        Please don’t pound me with your paws.

Stella:    That’s what bulldog paws are for.

Me:        I thought they were for walking and running and digging. And for scratching.

Stella:    Wrong. Your hands are for scratching us.

Me:        I was up half the night.  I just want a little nap.

Stella:    Napping is for bulldogs! Pound. Pound. Pound.

Me:        Stella, please! When I cover my shoulders with the sheet and hide my hands, that means sleep time, not petting or scratching time. See! My hands are all tucked in.

Stella:    I like your face.

Me:        Thank you.

Stella:    Here. Let me pound it.

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

The Great Human Egg Obsession – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Something was wrong with Tall Man yesterday. I regret to say that I have not figured it out.

Me:        Nothing is wrong with Tall Man.

Stella:    He was sitting on the floor. Do you call that normal human behavior?

Me:        Yeah, sometimes.

Stella:    No, it is not. Sitting on the floor is bulldog behavior. Floors were make for us to sit on. As were big softy chairs. And couches. And human beds. And…

Me:        Floors are platforms for humans, too.

Stella:    Not only was he sitting on the floor, his legs were crossed like he was some kind of weird cat, though all cats are weird.

Me:        Humans sit cross-legged at times.

Stella:    And he was surrounded by millions of strangely shaped balls that looked a whole lot like the eggs the chickens lay. But guess what?

Me:        Pray tell what?

Stella:    They were not like the eggs the chickens lay. He was opening them and there was no yellow goo inside. Ask me how I know about the yellow goo in eggs?

Me:        I don’t have to. I already know.

Stella:    Well, there was no goo in the eggs Tall Man was opening. And he was putting stuff into the eggs. And guess what?

Me:        What?

Stella:    The stuff was candy. Human candy. Ask me how I know.

Me:        How do you know?

Stella:    Candy smells like guess what? Candy. Candy smells like candy. Why, Lady Human, why? Why was Tall Man sitting on the floor cross-legged, opening millions of fake eggs, and putting candy in them?

Me:        First, he did not have millions of eggs. He had about a hundred which is still a lot.

Stella:    I counted millions but go on.

Me:        Those plastic eggs with candy in them were for a game that some human children play on Easter. People hide the eggs and the children search for them.

Stella:    I don’t understand.

Me:        Well, the fun is in the finding. They get excited to hunt the eggs, and when they find one, they have the bonus of getting the candy inside.

Stella:    So, you hide candy in fake eggs and hide the fake eggs, forcing the children to search for them and this is supposed to be a fun game. Shame on you all, Lady Human. Don’t ever try to fool me like that. Unless, of course, you are hiding real chicken treats. Then you are welcome to try to fool me. My nose will win every time.

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

Reading the Ground – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I am strolling around the yard with Lady Human, not doing any business if you know what I mean. We are just checking out spring. What are you staring at?

Me:        You.

Stella:    Yes, I do deserve your undivided attention.

Me:        I like watching how you work your nose.

Stella:    Haven’t you heard? Humans say that bulldogs are not a “working” breed.

Me:        Looks like work to me.

Stella:    I am reading the ground. I think that is how a human would put it. But not the way you read one of those silly things you call a “book” because that would just be weird. You would have to put it on the ground and stick your nose on it and sniff and sniff and leave some nose drool and a nose print on it. I can’t really imagine you doing that.

Me:        So, when you read the ground, what do you learn?

Stella:    Who passed by this way, what they had to eat, whether this is their favorite pee spot. Stuff like that.

Me:        Yeah, you wouldn’t get much out of my books.

Stella:    You mean I wouldn’t be able to tell who had handled it, or who had just eaten pizza or a hamburger or a chicken treat, or who had peed on it?

Me:        I certainly hope not.

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.