Stella’s Blog – The Right to Bark

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Stella, the Olde English Bulldogge. Once again, hello!

Today I must address a human hypocrisy. Dogs recognize when something is unfair. If you want to see an example of unfair, here it is. My humans say that they have the right to speak freely. They talk about freedom of speech all the time. Then why don’t dogs have the same right?

I know that I have reported (not complained, mind you, simply reported) about the inane barking of the others in my pack. I am not arguing that they have the right to bark. They don’t. I have the right to bark.

 I also claim the right to whine, cry, yawn loudly, howl, sing, or make whatever noise I like when I like, even farting. (It is not speech, but I am a bulldog and it is a form of my self-expression. I refuse to be embarrassed by it, so there!)

And furthermore, like the humans, I don’t have to explain myself or my reasons for being noisy nor do I have to apologize. They don’t apologize for talking through one of my naps. They don’t apologize for playing loud, ugly, scary sounds on television. (Between you and me, I don’t care to hear any more zombies growling. See! Even zombies have more free speech rights than dogs do.)

Humans never stop talking, so why am I supposed to be quiet?

Lady Human says that it matters what you say and it matters how you say it.

So when do I get my turn. I don’t even like barking that much. My bark is screechy compared to Snoopey’s and Tiger’s voices.  My opinion still matters.

I am standing up for the right of me to bark. My voice will be heard!

I will bark when I am tired. (Well, maybe not. That takes a lot of energy and you know, tired.)

I will bark when I am bored. (No, that’s even more boring.)

I will bark when there are sirens. (Oh, what’s the point? Sirens hurt my ears, but so does my barking.)

I will bark when other dogs bark. (What will I say? BE QUIET!!!)

Oh, eventually I will find something to bark about. Meanwhile, I will ask my transcriptionist to keep typing my blog. It is quieter and won’t disturb anyone’s sleep, even mine.

What will I say when the time comes? Something good, I hope.

“…for of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaketh.”  (Luke 6:45 KJV)

Signed, Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges

 

©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Bring on the Dog Days

Posted on by H.J. Hill

Today I am stuck. I am sluggish. I am stagnant. You would think that the Dog Days of Summer, those oppressive hot days when you step outside and feel like someone opened an oven door right in your face, were already here. They’re not. It is a cool 85 degrees F outside. I need to relax, refresh, and reboot.

I often fail at allowing myself to relax. Even when I look like I am relaxing, my mind is always running. If I try to let it idle, my inner voice accuses me of being lazy.

The dogs are better at relaxing than I am. They have it down pat.

Here is a list of tasks in their average workday:

  • eat,
  • drink,
  • run around with tongue lolling out,
  • wrestle,
  • play,
  • chew on stuff,
  • oh, and don’t forget to eat some grass now and then,
  • pick up a stick,
  • drop it in a new place,
  • sniff everything at least once.

Work done? Find a cool spot on the floor, flop belly flat onto it, and NAP. For how long? For as long as necessary.

That sounds like a plan. Well, I would leave out the stick and the grass eating and be selective about what I sniff, but the nap might hit the spot. Maybe not belly flat on the floor. The bulldogs and I do have our style differences.

It’s a Dog Day. Hallelujah!

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Don’t Freak Out

Posted on by H.J. Hill

Strange events have taken over the news lately, happenings that turn the pressure up on everyone 24 hour a day, 7 days a week. We get no vacations from them, no pauses, no truces, no answers, or so it seems.

I believe in answers. I believe they exist and I believe that we can discover them. We may miss the mark, overshooting our target or undershooting it, but we can aim again. And I believe that in the center of every question and answer, in the bull’s-eye, is God.

Sometimes the problem is that we misinterpret what we see or hear because we don’t have all the facts. Just like last week when the bulldogs went nuts because they saw something strange in the backyard and sounded the alarm. (For two perspectives on what happened, check out last week’s posts, Stella’s Blog – MONSTER ALERT! – Special Edition and The First Thing is Don’t Panic.)

The bulldogs serve as barometers of tension. They make me aware that I am not aware.

Last night, we turned on the backyard bug zapper because the flying insect population had grown exponentially over the past few warm weeks of our early spring. Electrical buzzing and popping punctuated the air around the patio as kamikaze bugs flew into the light.

No problem, right? Wrong. The dogs would not go into the yard because they had to pass by the crackling, sparking box that was suspended in the corner. It was yards away from their path and the zapper had been hanging there every day, but now it had come to life. It did not occur to me that there was a problem because there was no surprise for me. I had understanding of the situation. The dogs did not.

Nor did they understand the constant hammering this morning as a neighbor had a new roof put on their house. There was a strange noise. It didn’t stop. They could not see its source. Uh-oh, better not go out in the yard.

In each case, a little patient coaxing overcame the barriers. What helped most was when we walked ahead of them into the yard and let them follow us. As long as we were present and in the lead, everything was all right.

So when our scary shows up, we need to remember: God is present. He is leading. Follow Him.

“For I the LORD thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee.”  Isaiah 41:13 KJV

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

Being Bulldoggy

Posted on by H.J. Hill

“Never give up, never give in, never, never, never, never – in nothing, great or small, large or petty – never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense.” These words are attributed to Winston Churchill from a speech he gave at his alma mater, Harrow School, on October 29, 1941.

I admire Winston Churchill. He had a real bulldog presence about him. He even looked a little like a bulldog. That “never give up” business is hard though. I don’t enjoy hard. I like easy and even lazy on occasion.

That may be why the bulldogs came to us. My tendency to say, “Aw, so what?” when things got hard every once in a while cost me. It cost others.

I had a chance to give up on a small matter today, one that may have made no difference at all to anyone anywhere, now or ever. As is common in my current life, the chance to give up involved a bulldog.

Wiggles is the sweetest of our bulldogs, but she has a mind of her own when it comes to obedience. (Don’t we all?) She was out of her crate and it was necessary that she go into her crate because I was leaving and, since she is a trash diver and wire chewer and consumer of anything that comes near her mouth, it is never safe for her to be left to her own devices.

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No amount of coaxing or commanding would move her into the crate. I pushed, patted, picked up her feet to put them over the threshold, and finally toyed with the idea of giving up and letting her stay out. But no, that would not do. She is a dog. I am in charge and no matter how many lazy, underdeveloped muscles of mine had to be exercised or strained, that bulldog was going into that crate. Never give up; never give in.

I am sure I looked stupid, picking up the dog’s feet, one at a time and placing them into the crate, only to have her withdraw the last one I put in so I had to start over again. By that time, bribery with a treat was out of the question. I’m not that big of a sucker. (Well, sometimes I have been, but I’m working on it.) The whole time, there was the nagging temptation – “Go ahead, quit trying, who cares? What’s the big deal if she’s out for an hour or so?”

The big deal was she was supposed to go in the crate. The big deal was I am in charge over a pack of bulldogs. The big deal was my way was the right way, the safer way.

Among the world’s great battles being fought today, private and public, this tiny trivial fight of mine with a bulldog and with my tendency to quit was nothing. Still, I had to talk myself through it. All of a sudden, the fight was over. Wiggles cast one more sidelong glance in my direction and walked into the crate.

Did I experience elation? A sense of victory? Excitement? No, just a quiet pride that I had done my duty in this smallest of tasks. I did not give up. I did not give in.

Now I have to finish my income tax return. Never give up. Never give in.

“And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap if we faint not.” Galatians 6:9 KJV

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Private Property Law for Dogs 101

Posted on by H.J. Hill

Dear Dogs of All Breeds and Varieties, but especially Bulldogs:

This is a basic short course on the private property rights of humans vis-à-vis canines and, to a lesser extent, the property rights of dogs vis-à-vis other dogs. None of these rules are binding in any jurisdiction except my house and my yard. And car. And tent. And anyplace else my property happens to be.

 

RULE #1 – LEAVE MY STUFF ALONE!                                                                                                           You will know it is my stuff if:

  • I am holding it (because jumping up and grabbing it out of my hand does not make it yours);
  • it smells even a little bit like me (even if it also smells a little bit like you and has dog hair all over it);
  • it is clothing (and you know good and well that dogs don’t wear clothing unless a human makes them);
  • it is a cup, empty or with any liquid or solid in it (Just because a cup looks like a little bowl does not mean you may shove your nose into it or take anything out of it.);
  • it is a plate ON A TABLE (and that includes anything on the plate ON A TABLE);
  • it is a foot covering for a human WHETHER THE HUMAN IS WEARING IT OR NOT; or
  • it is part of any collection that I use or own even if it looks like a dog toy or little stick. (Pens and pencils are not sticks and do not belong in your mouths.)

This list may be amended and/or updated as the items that you attempt to abscond with, sneak off with, steal, chew, sniff, throw up on, pee or poop on, eat, or otherwise show excessive interest in become known.

RULE #2 – UNLESS INVITED BY THE DOG, LEAVE OTHER DOGS’ STUFF ALONE!                                      You will know that you have been invited if:

  • The other dog brings you the toy and offers it to you by laying it down or shoving it in your face;
  • The toy is abandoned and no other dog is claiming it (“Abandoned” is defined as alone, muddy, trampled, and/or sometimes covered in slobber, urine, and/or feces. It is solely in your discretion whether to claim such a nasty thing or not.); or
  • The other dog comes up to you with the toy in his/her mouth and waits for you to take half of it in your mouth so that you can both run off together carrying the toy jointly. In such an event, you each share 50% of the toy until you don’t want it anymore and let go of it or until you both allow another dog(s) to share, in which case your ownership is reduced proportionally by the number of dogs running with the toy in their mouths.

Growling, threatening, or fighting over toys is not allowed and will result in the immediate removal of the toy(s) under dispute by a qualified, authorized human. Toys so removed may be returned after an appropriate cooling off period and upon petition to the human by the interested dog parties.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me for clarification.

To preserve good order and peace among humans and dogs, Dear Dogs, obey these rules.

 

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©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Conversations with Stella #1 – Combo Blog

Posted on by H.J. Hill

Stella the Olde English Bulldogge and I have decided to combine our blogs today since our topics coincide. She has her weekly list of offenders and I have my Disorderly Conduct #2 post. So we’ll let Stella begin.

Stella: I should be able to have my own blog post as always.

Me: No, you already had your Monster Alert blog post earlier this week. I am sharing my space with you and I think that is generous of me.

Stella: Do I get an extra treat for this?

Me: No

Stella: Then how is that generous? This is work and treats should be paid.

Me: Very well, I will begin. The Disorderly Conduct of the week comes down to one thing – deliberate and accidental food spilling. Moon the Cat…

Stella: …Who is ridiculous…

Me: Don’t interrupt, please.

Stella: Mmmmaaawww!

Me: As I was saying, Moon the Cat made a mighty leap and spilled her food bowl that was sitting on top of the washing machine. Cat food went all over the floor.

Stella: Is it still there?

Me: No, I swept it up and threw it away.

Stella: That’s terrible. What a waste! Cat food is delicious. That could have been my treat.

Me: And then there are Snoopey and STELLA who have decided that their food should not be in bowls at all and who deliberately knock their bowls over.

Stella: It tastes better that way. The bowl tastes like shiny metal.

Me: It makes a mess and you end up losing a goodly amount of food to the other dogs.

Stella: It’s our style. We are sisters. My turn! Most offensive this week – Moon the Cat for spilling her food by jumping around on top of the washing machine. She’s just a big showoff. Number 2 – Wiggles for trash diving, again. She is so undignified. Number 3 – Tiger for running in the house and sliding carelessly across the floor like life is a game which it most certainly is not. And tied for Number 5 – me and Snoopey for deliberate food spilling which is really not an offense, just an eating choice. And I have to add one more – Tall Man for wearing scary stuff on his head and pretending to be an insect and frightening everybody.

Me: He didn’t frighten me .

Stella: Everybody who’s a dog.

Me: You understand that he was doing yard work and the “scary stuff” on his head was safety equipment. No frightening was intended. And humans should not be added to the Offenders list.

Stella: My list, my rules.

Me: So what have we learned this week?

Stella: That living around cats is annoying and that humans can dress like insects.

Me: No, not that. I have learned that I have to be patient, extra patient because sometimes things don’t go according to plan, things can get messy, and the mess can be caused by the ones I love, dogs and cats and humans. 1 Corinthians 13:4 – “Charity suffereth long, and is kind…”

Stella: I love you, too, and I will be patient with you while you get me my treat.

 

 

©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

Dogs Don’t Have Hands – Thank God!

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I truly am grateful that the LORD did not give dogs long fingers and opposable thumbs. Can you imagine the chaos and the competition? If He had done so, those old velvet paintings of dogs playing poker and smoking cigars might have been based on real life.

What brings up this outburst of thanksgiving that dogs have stubby little toes and no manual dexterity to speak of? One or more of our dogs OPENED THE BACK DOOR!

To be clear, the door was shut but not locked. There was no wind, not so much as a breeze. I was the only human awake in the house. There was no banging or sound of pushing against the door, not even horseplay (similar to bulldog play). I was finishing my breakfast in the kitchen when…a clatter, a bump, and the sound of objects falling…

I ran into the den. The door was wide open and there were dogs, dancing. The sounds I had heard were from the door knocking into my shelf by my chair and my pencil case falling over and spilling. Somebody of the canine classification had opened the door.

Now someone may argue, “Oh, you just didn’t close the door well,” which is exactly what my son suggested when he came in to check out the ruckus. But I am careful to close the door fully, complete with the click of the latch, when I let the dogs out into the yard because I don’t want them to wander back into the den alone while I am in another part of the house. They have a habit of strolling around the room, selecting choice human items or furnishings to taste or move or run around with in their big bulldoggy mouths. Closing the door completely is a habit of mine.

So how did they open it? Our patio door has an extended handle instead of a doorknob. I suspect that one of the little boogers stood up on her hind legs and pulled down on the handle with one or two paws. They have seen me do it every day. I watched Tiger almost accomplish the feat a few months ago. But Tiger wasn’t outside this time. That means someone else got a clue and actually did it.

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So now I will lock the patio door when the dogs go out. And we will be fine until one of them figures out that piece of the puzzle which is unlikely because God wisely saw fit not to give them hands. Thank You, Lord!

“…marvelous are Thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.” Psalm 139:14 KJV

 

©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

The First Thing is Don’t Panic

Posted on by H.J. Hill

Maybe that title should come with an exclamation point. Naw. That’s really the whole issue in this post. Sometimes a crisis (or a perceived crisis) doesn’t need an exclamation point. It may need the light turned up or the volume turned down so you can understand what the matter is or whether there is a matter at all.

Stella, our “queen” bulldog, posted her Monster Alert before she had all the facts. (See Stella’s Blog – Monster Alert – Special Edition from March 29, 2016 for the details from her point of view.) She wasn’t alone in her panic. She was joined in her barking frenzy by the whole crew. Snoopey was actually the first dog to see the “monster”.

I felt sorry for them. I knew that what they saw was no monster, but I could not let them out to show them because my son, a.k.a. the Tall Man, was mowing and spreading diatomaceous earth in the yard and the dogs could not be allowed out there until everything settled. He was wearing goggles and a large breathing filter so that his lungs would not be affected. None of the bulldogs have breathing apparatus.

I’m sure he did appear like a strange creature to them. His head was covered by the equipment and he was running the loud mower.  An insect-headed interloper from a non-bulldog planet. I told them everything was all right. I tried to calm them down. I was telling them the truth. They didn’t believe me. They believed their eyes.

When my son came inside and took off his protective gear, they saw his face. All fear vanished. All barking stopped. All panic ceased.

The dogs’ panic would not have contributed to their response to the monstrous threat had it existed. Getting all wound up doesn’t help any of us answer a challenge.

The key is not to start with panic. Alertness, yes. Observation, yes. Eyes wide open, yes. Maybe even a quick step to safety until the situation is clear. Panic clouds those responses. And I wish they would trust me more. I’m the one who knew what was going on.

Oh, well, I should remember that, too.

“Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee: because he trusteth in Thee.”   (Isaiah 26:3 KJV)

 

©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

Stella’s Blog – MONSTER ALERT! – Special Edition

Posted on by H.J. Hill

It’s me! Stella the Olde English…Oh, I don’t have time to explain all that!! This is an alert! I can barely stop barking long enough to post this! Everybody, watch out!

THERE IS A MONSTER IN THE BACKYARD!

If you are in the backyard, it is probably too late for you! If you are a bird in the trees, fly away and warn others! If you are a squirrel, climb the nearest tree and jump over the fence! Forget about saving your precious pecans and acorns! Save yourselves! If the monster gets you, I won’t be able to chase you later. If you are a trespassing cat…well, go ahead and hang around and let’s see what happens. No, on second thought, RUN!

The monster walks on two legs like a human. It is wearing dark material like a human, probably so that it can blend into the shadows and hide, and then SPRING OUT at us when we go out to use the bathroom or sniff around and sun ourselves.

The worst part is its head. It has large bubble eyes and a mouth that looks like a bug’s face. It is ugly even by bulldog standards.

Now it has the Tall Man’s loud machine that chops the grass down! Where is the Tall Man when we need him? A monster is pushing a machine around our yard and no one is stopping it. We are all barking our heads off, but Lady Human is just sitting here saying, “It’s all right.”

NO, IT IS NOT ALL RIGHT, LADY HUMAN! THERE IS A MONSTER IN OUR YARD! NONE OF US IS GOING OUT THERE TO PEE OR POOP UNTIL THE MONSTER IS GONE! And you know what will happen if we don’t go out. YOU DON’T WANT THAT! NONE OF US DO!

TOO LATE! THE MONSTER IS COMING TO THE DOOR. IT IS COMING INTO THE HOUSE!

HORROR! It is reaching up and taking its face off! I can’t look. Yes, I can because I can’t bark with my eyes closed. It is…the Tall Man. It is not a monster after all. The Tall Man was wearing something on his head that covered his face and, all of a sudden, everything is all right, just as Lady Human said. We should have listened to her. She knew.

Now I just feel silly. We had it all wrong. There was nothing to be afraid of. This time.

Very well. Alert cancelled. Never mind.

Signed,

Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges

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©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Can You Smell That?

Posted on by H.J. Hill

Stella and I visited The Bomb Fried Pie trailer when it was at RaRa’s Closet in Dallas on Saturday.  They serve a wonderful hot dog wrapped in crispy fried dough with a side of honey mustard. This treat is called a “Bomb Dog” and I make a special point to go and get one when I can. Stella hauled me toward the trailer as though I was not going to be able to make it on my own and besides I was walking too slowly. She forgets that I have two legs to her four.

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They treated Stella to a piece of fried bologna and made her day. (I parceled it out to her so she would not eat it all in one swipe though that would have suited her just fine.)

Stella has been to The Bomb Fried Pie trailer before so that may explain her excitement when she jumped out of the car. Maybe she remembered the scent. Bulldogs do not hold a great reputation for nose skills compared to most dog breeds. Their short muzzles impact their breathing and they don’t usually follow their noses as well as others do. Our bulldogs can figure their way around with their noses though and I have been testing Stella on her ability to pick odd smells when we are camping or out and about.

I “let” her lead me back to the car. When she is in bulldog pulling mode, I don’t have much choice. Our leash training has not gone that well. But I did allow her to choose among the parked cars to see if she could find ours by scent. She’s done it before. This time she got close, within a few feet. All she had to do was turn around.

We loaded up, snacked on the Bomb Dog and honey mustard and fried bologna, and I drove to the other side of the building. We walked back to the trailer and RaRa’s and, after a couple of minutes, Stella turned her face in the direction we had come. She couldn’t see our car from where we were, but she appeared to be following her nose again, yep, straight to our vehicle.

There had to be a lot of different scents competing for Stella’s olfactory attention. The delicious odors coming from the fried pies and meats, people scents, dog scents from the other canine visitors, multiple vehicles. But when she focused her nose, Stella didn’t really have any trouble finding out which car was ours. She read her situation pretty well.

So what have I learned from this? Use the talents I have and focus. Being a human, my nose perception is pretty weak, but I’ve been given other gifts. Using them the right way will help me know where I am and where I am going.

“Let thine eyes look right on, and let thine eyelids look straight before thee.” Proverbs 4:25

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Stella’s Blog #7 – Sneaky is as Sneaky Does

Posted on by H.J. Hill

Hello! I am Stella the Olde English Bulldogge a.k.a.Queen Stella. I have to keep reminding everyone about the queen part. Even my humans have a tendency to forget my status.

And now I will jump right into my List of Offenders for the week, as always from the greatest offender to the least:

  1. Wiggles: This was a hard choice because everyone but me behaved badly all week long. Still Wiggles wins (if this award can be called a win) because she would not leave Lady Human’s shoes alone. If Lady Human wants to keep a pair of outside shoes by the back door, she should be allowed to without Wiggles or anyone else making a toy out of them. Personally, I don’t understand what is so appealing about human shoes, but to each her own.
  1. Tiger AND Snoopey: They tie for second most offensive because they could not settle down and enjoy the high winds. All their barking and turning and whining, really? And they couldn’t let that feud of theirs go even though it is calming down. They still like to get in each others’ faces for a bark fest which gets me to barking and that hurts my ears.
  1. Moon the Cat: She comes in third and was offensive this week. Why? Because CAT! Cats have this annoying way of walking that is smooth and slinky and silent. Why can’t they be normal, like dogs?
  1. Me: I admit it. I don’t like to have my nails trimmed and I gave Lady Human a run for it when she tried. She was sneaky and got 4 of them despite all my flipping and flopping. Then the tall man showed up and they tricked me. She petted my head and neck and got me all relaxed and thinking that nothing of the nail trimming sort was going on and all of a sudden all my nails had been trimmed and it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t even notice. OK. Until next time.

Did I learn anything this week? Yes. Sometimes humans are sneaky. Wiggles is quick and sneaky when she is stealing shoes. Cats are always sneaky. High winds make Tiger and Snoopey irritable and irritating to me, but at least high winds don’t sneak up on you.

My transcriptionist says that I should try saying something nice about the others. Awwww.

Signed,

Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

Dancing Dogs

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I grew up in a denomination that frowned on dancing. The belief was that dancing only promoted temptation to sinful thoughts and, therefore, like buying lottery tickets, might open the door to some seriously wicked stuff.

Me: “But it looks fun.”

Counterpoint: “I will set no wicked thing before mine eyes…” Psalm 101:3

Me: “But King David wrote that and he danced before the Lord with all his might. 2 Samuel 6:14.”

Counterpoint: That was King David. And that’s just not us.

I guess the lesson was that kingship hath its privileges and we simply weren’t dancers.

So I never danced, except once at school when we learned square dancing and folk dancing for about four weeks. I was told that was okay because it was school. I never let on how much fun I had and I don’t remember any temptations.

Now I dance when I am alone and only God can see. He doesn’t mind my lack of timing or my clumsiness. Oh, and I dance in front of the bulldogs who are some fine dancers themselves. They jump with both front legs bouncing up and down at the same moment. They prance, lifting their legs high in front of them, one at a time as they scoot forward on their paws.

Stella is the best at prancing. She will jump forward with one leg held stiffly out in front of her and tap the ground every few feet, or she will put her head down and rhythmically beat the floor with alternating front paws as she moves. And she sashays.

Wiggles has a different style. She performs what we call the “comma dance”. When she is really excited and playful, she forms herself tightly into a circle, head toward tail, and dances with her feet near the ground. The only thing is, having the wide girth of a bulldog, she can’t close the circle so she looks like a dancing comma. In that position, she whirls around and around, awaiting our approval before she straightens herself out.

I like dancing. Both of my daughters studied dance. It was good exercise and discipline. And if joyful creatures like bulldogs can do it, I can, too – only not where any humans can see me.

“Let them praise His Name in the dance…” Psalm 149:3

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Shaken and Stirred

Posted on by H.J. Hill

The winds have been up for the past several days, gusting to thunderstorm strength at times, flexing anything flexible and cracking a few things that weren’t. A good shaking now and then sorts things out. Loose items get rearranged so they can be picked up and secured. Weak tree limbs lose their places and new growth appears. A strong shaking lets you know a change is coming.

High winds shake the bulldogs, too. Stella was rock-solid as usual, napping and eating and eating and napping. (Is that stability or laziness?)

Tiger, Snoopey, and Wiggles have been at their wits’ end, jumping (more than usual), charging around the yard (more than usual), and staring at the trees and barking. They are tense, agitated, and unable to settle down.

They focus on me as though I have the answer. What is it? When will it end? Probably when the thunderstorms come through tomorrow or the next day, not that thunderstorms are peaceable. At least I have the advantage of access to weather forecasts. I try to calm them down, but they don’t calm down. There are forces working beyond their understanding and they refuse to be comforted.

In Doggy Study Hall yesterday, Snoopey pressed into my side so hard that she almost bowled me over. I wrapped my arms around her. Experts tell us that dogs don’t like to be I hugged, that it goes against their self-defenses and makes them feel uncomfortable. I agree, but Snoopey broke that rule. She sat still and looked at me calmly as I let my arms lay lightly on her shoulders. She didn’t fidget while we were sitting there. The winds continued to blow.

I don’t like getting shaken up. I enjoy calm and peace and stability. Those have been in short supply lately. Everywhere I look, everyone I talk to is experiencing a shaking – changes, alterations, adjustments, some good but some not so good.

After the shaking winds die away, the dogs will resume their stolid bulldog expressions and I will look around at all the things that were knocked loose, but more importantly, at all the things that stayed in place – what remained strong, what lasted.

“Wherefore we receiving a kingdom which cannot be moved, let us have grace, whereby we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear…” Hebrews 12:28 KJV

 

© 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

Doggy Salon – Who Wants a Manicure?

Posted on by H.J. Hill

While attending a meeting recently, during a lull in the action, I paid attention to the fingernails of the women sitting near me. Not because fingernail dress-up is a particular interest of mine, but because I realized after I arrived that my own fingernails were carrying a dump truck load of bulldog dirt that I had failed to clean before I left the house. I tucked my fingertips under and glanced around the circle, hoping that someone else had been gardening or tending their own bulldog pack that day and had the same problem. If another woman was there with dirty nails, it would make me feel less special.

One lady had an impeccable enamel job that complemented her outfit; two others wore simple, single color polish, and the lady to my left had short, well-trimmed nails sans polish but also sans dirt. I continued to keep my fingernails out of sight for the rest of the meeting.

When I got home, I cleaned my nails and considered the state of everyone else’s. Three bulldogs needed a trim and that is a purely catch-as-catch-can situation. They despise having their nails fooled with. If I am alone, I try to get it done in Doggy Study Hall because that is a relaxed, one on one environment, but the second that the nail trimmers appear – oh, no.

As a child, I had poodles – Meme (pronounced Mee-mee) and Jolee. They not only tolerated having their nails done, they seemed to enjoy it. We even painted their nails bright colors and they never tried to lick or chew the polish off. They sat patiently while I brushed on the garish color I had chosen. Maybe they understood that I was trying to make them look nice, human style.

But the bulldogs? Tiger and Wiggles pull their feet out of my hands and run. It’s a power play, pure and simple. Stella is more acrobatic in her attempts to avoid nail trimming. She twists, she flips, she flops, she rolls over on her back, jumps up, runs in a circle, flops back down, rolls over again.

The Nails Trimmed Scorecard at the end of one session:

Tiger: 1

Wiggles: 0 (I may have to come up with a clever bribe.)

Stella: 1

At this rate, we will be on a 18-day cycle – one nail trimmed per dog, per day.

As for Snoopey, like the ladies at the meeting, her nails were short and clean. That’s quite a feat for someone who likes to run through mud and doesn’t care if she steps in “it”.

So what is my lesson in this? “But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.” James 1:4 KJV

Okay. I’ll try again.

 

©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

The Stink Eye

Posted on by H.J. Hill

Until about a year ago, I did not know the term “stink eye”, though I have received a bunch in my time and have shot out more than a few myself. Apparently it originates from Hawaiian surfer slang and means a stare of suspicion or doubt, in other words, a dirty look.

I have witnessed Skinnyhead, our top silkie hen, give it to Stella and Stella return the favor in a stare down contest that Skinnyhead usually wins when Stella gets bored with the game. I have seen it from my kids back in the day, from co-workers, from other drivers (and even passengers), and as I mentioned, if I had bothered to pull out a mirror, on any number of days, I walked around with the stink eye toward shoppers at the grocery store, cashiers, my kids back in the day, and even people at church. I might as well admit it. Other people were bound to notice the dirty look on my face even if I didn’t. God certainly knew.

Of all the dogs I have ever known, not one comes close to the perfected stink eye that Snoopey, one of our Olde English Bulldogges, has developed.

Snoopey lives on alert. Her senses are keen, eyes and hearing sharp, and she works her nose better than many bulldogs are able. She is a natural-born watchdog and pack leader, always looking out for the welfare of the others. (Well, not for Tiger’s welfare so much. They are still feuding.)

But…she is suspicious. She casts her stink eye around generously. In fact, she starts in stink eye mode and then switches to her “hi there, nice to see ya” face when she recognizes who it is.

Seldom does she completely relax. I have been petting her and watched as she cocked her eyes over to check on what Tiger was up to.

Suspicious is a hard way to live. You’re always suspecting that someone is about to jump you. Maybe you got jumped before. Maybe you grew up that way, always on guard, learning to use your face as a shield. And as a weapon.

In the Bible, King Saul was suspicious of David (1 Samuel 18:9). Read the entire story. It did not end well for Saul.

Generally, giving the stink eye is just going to earn you a stink eye in return and there is no real winner in that kind of staring contest. Dirty looks can start a fight. Instead of suspicious, we can be observant and aware. That way we don’t get jumped and we don’t jump someone else.

I am learning that lesson. I wish I could teach it to Snoopey. The last stink eye she gave Tiger almost started a fight.

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

Stella’s Blog #6 – “Hey!” is not my Name

Posted on by H.J. Hill

Hello. I, Stella the Olde English Bulldogge, have returned to invite you to share my thoughts on all things bulldoggy, but first a clarification. Despite what my transcriptionist may have written recently, my name is not Hey. My name is Stella and I command …all right, I prefer that everyone use it. I won’t offer an opinion as to what the other bulldogs should be called or whether or not the “Hey” word applies to them.

Actually, I will.

“Hey!” does not apply to me because I do not provoke it. I don’t go around picking up odd objects with my mouth. Any objects I pick up go into my hoard and become mine by right of possession. If someone else claims them, too bad, too sad, they should not have left them alone on the floor in the first place. Finders keepers, as the humans say, losers…well, losers.

Who among us should be called “Hey!”?

Presenting the current List of Offenders ranked from most offensive to least:

  1. HEY! WIGGLES! – I saw you, Wiggles! You thought that I was asleep, but I have learned to keep one eye open. You ran by and snatched Mr. Long Blue Squishy Hound right out of my bed and attempted to race with him into the yard where who knows what would have happened to him. Thankfully, Lady Human saw what you did and rescued Mr. Long Blue Squishy Hound before you could abscond with him. Well done, Lady Human! Wiggles, your name is Hey!
  1. HEY! TIGER! – The feud with Snoopey has calmed down, but it must end! When you two are barking at each other, I can’t hear the TV. I don’t like hearing barking dogs on it either, but at least they are part of the show. And that Stephen Colbert makes the humans laugh. I like hearing the humans laugh. But when you are barking, I CAN’T! Tiger, your name is Hey!
  1. HEY! SNOOPEY! – You know that whiny little sound you make to get Lady Human’s attention when she is busy with delicious-smelling food in the kitchen, well, CUT IT OUT! If you interrupt her, the delicious smell will go away and we all know that you don’t really need anything except to be the center of her attention. Snoopey, your name is Hey!
  1. HEY! MOON THE CAT! – No, that doesn’t work at all. I’ve never even heard a human say “hey” to the cat. I wish it did work. I would shout, “Hey! Cat! GET OFF THE LADY HUMAN’S CHAIR! THAT’S NOT YOUR BED!” Who does she think she is? It should be my bed.

So who among us should be called “Hey!”? Certainly not me.

Signed,

Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges

 

©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

Hey! – The Great Attention Getter

Posted on by H.J. Hill

We might as well have named all the dogs “Hey”. They respond more quickly to that word than any other, except for the word “Now!” which often does grab their attention. “Now” sounds like “no”, but since they seldom pay attention to “no”, I don’t think that’s what’s snagging their hearing.

“Hey!” works for all kinds of desired behaviors:

Hey! Go into your crate. It’s time for bed. – Translation: Actually, we are exhausted. It’s time for us to go to bed and we can’t let you wander around all night, fighting with each other, plunging into the garbage, or finding other mischief. Good night!

Hey! Don’t chase the cat! – It’s loud. It’s a waste of time. She doesn’t like it, well, not much. But that game gets old fast.

Hey! Don’t eat that! –  I discussed this one before. I am sure that I will again.

Hey! Put that down! – I will be pondering dogs and private property rights in a future post.

Hey! Come here! – Pretty self-explanatory.

Hey! Go there!  – This works better when accompanied by finger pointing.

Hey! Get down!  – Used for jumping on furniture, jumping on each other, jumping on people (they believe it is the best way to show love), and jumping on my clean pants.

And there is always the ever popular, generic

Hey! Stop that!

(There are a number of other examples; you get the idea.)

In each instance, “Hey!” is not the command. It says nothing about the desired outcome. “Hey” is the attention getter- the word that turns the dogs around, causes their ears to perk up, and their big-shouldered bulldog bodies to stop – sometimes.

I regret all the times that the LORD has had to shout at me to get my attention. Perhaps I was asleep, bored, distracted by trivia, unfocused or wrongly focused, obsessed, or just plain stupid. He had to shout to get me to look in His direction. Sometimes He had to call out more than once. And at other times He had to allow some serious event that I finally noticed. An alarm. A siren. A wake up call.

“Give ye ear, and hear My voice; hearken and hear My speech.” Isaiah 28:23 KJV

©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Hey! Don’t Eat That!

Posted on by H.J. Hill

We can all get in trouble when we put the wrong things in our mouths. Or even when we put too much of the right things in our mouths. Or when we eat grass and garbage. (The grass and garbage references are for our bulldog friends. Personally, I don’t eat grass or garbage.)

Wiggles is a trash can diver. She would love to be a dumpster diver, but being a bulldog, it is unlikely that she will ever encounter a dumpster short enough for her to dive into, and we wouldn’t let her anyway.

Now that spring has sprung, she is a grass-eater. When outside, she adds other delectables to her diet – an occasional acorn, dry bark from a fallen tree limb, a pecan if she can find one, and, last but not least, poop. Dog or cat variety, it makes no difference. She is not a connoisseur.

When she finds something that she wants to eat, she exhibits such joy that it makes me regret trying to take it away from her and “try” is the operative word. She trots off, tail wagging and ears flapping, head held high, deftly avoiding capture nine times out of ten.

As anyone who has been around English Bulldogs or Olde English Bulldogges knows, bullies’ diets have to be regulated due to their digestive issues. But regulate as we will, Wiggles goes for illicit snacks from the backyard and any wastepaper basket she finds unguarded. The result: gagging, farting, and on occasion, throwing up. Thank the LORD, no lasting harm. And sadly, no lesson learned by Wiggles. She sniffs out next target on her next trip outside and goes for it with gusto.

Humans have been gifted with the potential for self-control unlike our bulldog companions. All we have to do is exercise it and thus avoid the unappetizing consequences.

“Hast thou found honey? Eat so much as is sufficient for thee, lest thou be filled therewith, and vomit it.” Proverbs 25:16 KJV

Sound, practical advice.

 

©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Disorderly Conduct, Part 1

Posted on by H.J. Hill

As Stella the Olde English Bulldogge (self-styled “Queen Stella”) sees fit to pop onto this blog space to air her own opinions about the misbehavior of others, I am taking the same tack to point out some bulldog – and Siamese cat – disorderly conduct. While the incidents on this list may appear trite, taken together they show a trend, namely, that bulldogs – and one cat in particular – engage in disorderly conduct on a regular basis. Unlike Stella’s List of Offenders on her blog posts, the following incidents appear in no particular order of disorder or intensity.

  1. My sweet little burnt orange clay dish was minding its own business in the patio when someone with perfect aim pooped right in the middle of it. I almost threw it away rather than clean it. Even cleaned, I am always going to remember the perfect target one of the dogs made of it. (Still and all, it was a good shot. The dish was small and sitting at a difficult angle. But be that as it may, no disorderly points are deducted for accuracy. The future plants won’t mind, I hope.)
  1. Snoopey ran in from outside, saw Moon, our cat, whirled around, and rammed her big bulldoggy rear end into the shelf by my chair, tumbling my pencil holders, spilling them everywhere. And she didn’t even chase the cat. And she didn’t help me pick up the pens and pencils either which was no doubt just as well since dog slobber does not make them write more smoothly.
  1. Inexplicably, the dogs have chosen a spot two feet behind my chicken-watching chair in the backyard as their new favored potty spot. Yay! The pleasant odors of each season are smothered by a new fragrance. (No, not inexplicably. It is just one more way for them to say that they love me and want to be near me. I should be honored. Should be.)
  1. Moon the cat has been testing the boundaries of our Bulldoggy Nation by walking as slowly as possible past the sleeping dogs. That is innocent enough, you may think, but I know her better than that. Everything is set up so that she can move anywhere without passing by the dogs at all. What she is doing is a test to see just how long it will take them to wake up and realize that she is there, taunting them and their less than sharp noses. And when one of them does note her proximity, the whole place erupts into a spectacular, extremely annoying display of frantic barking. Annoying to whom? Well, not to Moon who has by then simply strolled away.

So if you enjoy voting (and who doesn’t, especially this year), please vote for your choice of the most Disorderly Conduct on the list and post it in the Comment section below.

“Let all things be done decently and in order.” 1 Corinthians 14:40 KJV

©2016 H.J Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

The Hallelujah Breakfast Club

Posted on by H.J. Hill

As a hurrier through life, I have skipped breakfast more often than I have eaten it. My run out the door seldom routed a swing through the kitchen. When my last job ended, I decided to make a change and started each morning with a simple, healthy breakfast. That sounds more wholesome than it usually is. Honestly, the definition of “healthy” shifts based on cravings and what happens to be available in the refrigerator.

As the early riser/recently unemployed, I took over the feeding of the bulldogs and their morning bathroom runs. I stepped into the den where every dog slept and they jumped to their feet in anticipation. “At last, this lady has come to feed us and let us out to pee.”  That was my interpretation. They didn’t vocalize it. They said it with their stomping feet. The whole room vibrated and rumbled like a bulldog percussion section. Sixteen dancing, pounding feet celebrated being alive, and hungry.

So we started sharing breakfast time together. Within a short while, I joined them in the morning celebration stomp and dubbed the daily event “The Hallelujah Breakfast Club”. I even made up a little theme song for it. (I will not burden you with the details.)

Once the food bowls were distributed, the persistent sound of chomping filled the room. My satisfaction at that sound surprised me. Humans may smack when we eat, but by and large, we are quiet consumers. Bulldogs don’t hold back. They enjoy eating and they let everyone know it. I was glad that they were glad. And I was happy that I was the one privileged to fill their bowls.

The Hallelujah Breakfast Club turned what could have been a lonely, mindless chore into a feast and the thing that made it so was an attitude. I could have chosen to be down or burdened or distracted or annoyed, but the noise of their silly bulldog feet pounding out “good morning” welcomed me to a different point of view – a joyful one. I don’t skip breakfast anymore if I can share the time with a bulldog. They know how to enjoy a good meal.

“Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31 KJV

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.