Strike! Strike! Strike! – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, and something hilariously bulldoggy has just occurred. It should be written down in the annals of bulldogdom.

Me:        Well, I don’t think it’s very funny.

Stella:    You don’t have much of a sense of humor, Lady Human. You should work on that.

Me:        My sense of humor doesn’t match bulldog humor, I guess.

Stella:    It sure doesn’t. Bulldog humor is funny.

Me:        Explain to me how it is funny that Wiggles refuses to move.


Stella:    She’s on strike! I can’t stop laughing.

Me:        I can’t move her! She weighs 80 pounds! Oh, now look! She’s rolled over on her back.

Stella:    Pay no attention. She’ll get tired of the game and get up. Eventually. Until then, just step over her.

Me:        Here. Let me scratch your belly, Wiggles. Is that what you want?

Stella:    No! Lady Human! Don’t give in! Don’t offer a bribe!

Me:        Is that what I’m doing when I give you a treat?

Stella:    No, that’s an act of love. But when Wiggles is on strike in the middle of the floor, on her back, showing her belly, that’s a bribe demand. She’s saying, ‘Scratch my stomach or live with an immovable bulldog in the middle of your floor forever’. She will control you for life. Anytime she wants something, she will flip over and make like a rock. A big, heavy, bulldog-shaped rock.

Me:        Here. Let me toss a treat over there. Maybe she’ll go for it.

Stella:    Treat tossing! Is that the way to break a bulldog strike?

Me:        It’s working. She’s going after it.

Stella:    Not fair! Okay, fine! I, Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogs, am officially on strike! Boom! Not moving until I get my due.

Wiggles:  Don’t be fooled, Lady Human. She doesn’t know how to strike.

Me:        Why did you strike, Wiggles?

Wiggles:  You’ve been real busy lately and I haven’t had a good long belly scratch in a while so…

Me:        I’m sorry, girl. I wasn’t paying enough attention. You had to make a demand.

Stella:    Hey! Over here! Look at me! A bulldog rock! STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!

Me:        What should I do about this?

Wiggles:  I would not give into her demands if I were you, Lady Human. You’ll never hear the end of it. She’ll go on strike every day. As for me, I’m reasonable.


Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Don’t Be An Attention Hound! – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, the one and only Illustrious Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Nobody appointed me. Nobody elected me. I just came this way.

First of all, let me say that I do not get enough attention…

Me:        Haha! As if!

Stella:    As if what, Lady Human?

Me:        It’s just an expression. It means that I doubt what you just said.

Stella:    How rude! Who would know better than I if I am getting enough attention or not? I know when I am being fed, being petted, being talked to – not that “Do this, Stella!” and “Don’t do that, Stella!” human nonsense talk but actual conversation about food, and treats, and what is that scary thing on the Picture Box, and…

Me:        Life’s important issues.

Stella:    Exactly.

Me:        You are an attention hound.

Stella:    I beg your pardon.

Me:        Granted.

Stella:    No, I mean how dare you call me a hound of any kind? I am a bulldog. There is no mistaking us for any other kind of dog. If I am an attention anything, it would be an attention…sponge. Yes. A sponge that soaks up all the attentiony goodness and keeps soaking it in until I am full and the attention starts leaking out all over the ground. Attention sponge. That’s me!

Me:        So right now, you are not full of attention and leaking?

Stella:    Right now, I am as dry as a bone. Bone. Now there’s an idea. I could go for one of those about now.

Me:        Would that fill your attention quota?

Stella:    Quota? You use such strange words. Would I be a leaky sponge if I had a bone? No. But add in a shoulder massage and a tummy rub (not one of those one, two, three, and you’re done sort of tummy rubs either), a few treats and a head rub, and throw in one of those long, boring human stories you like to tell…

Me:        Boring?

Stella:    It’s you and me, Lady Human. Don’t worry. I don’t expect it to be exciting.



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.


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.

Better Get Out of the Way!

Imagine a Sherman tank about 18 inches tall running full speed with no one at the controls. Now imagine that it rolls directly at your legs and you can’t get out of its way fast enough. That’s a bulldog on the high setting. You don’t have to worry about moving your legs. They will take care of that for you.

Dodging a barreling bulldog is good practice for maintaining balance. Of course, it helps immensely if you see them coming. Or hear them coming. When several bullies get to galloping, well, just think about a stampede in an old Western movie. Turn the volume down a little bit and you’ve got the idea. Oh, and like in the old movies, if they’re headed in your direction, RUN!

Our dogs are happy when they are running. They don’t mean to take my legs out from under me or bowl me over. They don’t mean to stomp on my feet or cause me trouble. Still I had better pay attention and I had better get out of the way. Even if they put on the brakes, they slide. Alertness is a price we all pay for living in a fast-paced world.

It’s not cowardice to move out of the path of a runaway bulldozer. Or bulldog.

Proverbs 22:3 tells us: “A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on and are punished. “  (KJV) The simple person is not even stupid, but naïve or gullible. How many times have I found myself in that description? Never mind. I’m not going to count them.

It took me a couple of bulldog stampedes and other nasty events in my life, but now my middle name is prudence. (Not really. My middle name starts with a “J”, but you get the idea.)


©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.