Dealywhopper – Conversations with the Pack

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Me: Oh, I wish y’all could hand me that dealywhopper over there. I can’t quite reach it.

Sweetie: What’s a dealywhopper? Can I eat it?

Me: It’s that…thing there.

MoonCat: Meow. Is it tunafish? I’ll get it if it’s tunafish.

Me: No, it’s that thingamajig on the floor over there.

Doodlebug: What is she talking about?

Sweetie: A dealywhopper. It’s important, but you can’t eat it.

Doodlebug: It must not really be all that important then.

MoonCat: It’s not tunafish so…never mind.

Sweetie: Why doesn’t she just say what it is?

Doodlebug: She did. It’s a dealywhopper.

Sweetie: Must be some new human invention. Have you noticed how humans are always coming up with new stuff and new things to call the stuff? They are so weird.

Doodlebug: Yes, I have noticed that.

Copyright 2023 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

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.