Big Game Hunting – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Me:        Why are you whispering?

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

Me:        Why are we whispering then?

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

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

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

Me:        Are you hunting rats?

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

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

Stella:    Bulldog sized?

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

Stella:    Nope.

Me:        A possum?

Stella:    Nope.

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

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

Me:        No. Praise the LORD!

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

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

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

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

Stella:    Shhhhh! I know where she is hiding.

Me:        Where?

Stella:    There, under the couch.

Me:        Nope.

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

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

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

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

Stella:    It’s not the cat?

Me:        No, sorry.

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

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

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Stella:    She is the biggest animal here.

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

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

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cat Chasing Time – Where is the Cat? – Conversations with Stella

Here I am with Stella, the Olde English Bulldogges’ Queen…

Stella:    Where is the cat?

Me:         Excuse me?

Stella:    Where is the cat?

Me:         Chilling out in one of her many hiding places.

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Stella:    So where is the cat?

Me:        That’s for her to know and you to find out.

Stella:    That’s not funny. Is that a human game?

Me:        It was a long time ago.

Stella:    Why is the cat hiding? It is time for cat chasing.

Me:        Yeah, about that. That’s not really her favorite game.

Stella:    Why ever not? It is the most fun ever!

Me:        I have noticed something about that game that is a little odd.

Stella:    Like how I always win.

Me:        More like how you are the only one playing it.

Stella:    That is not correct. Bulldogs are cat chasers. We are all players. Whoop!

Me:        Whoop?

Stella:    Isn’t that what humans yell when they win?

Me:        Mmmmm. Not always.

Stella:    Where is the cat?

Me:        If this is a real game, you will have to find her.

Stella:    Not fair.

Me:        Of course it is fair. The cat’s hiding is part of the game. If the other bulldogs are playing, why can’t they help you find her?

Stella:    Well…to be honest, they are lazy. But you have suspected that for a long time.

Me:        No, they aren’t being lazy. They want you to play the game while they sit still and watch you run your rear end off. They bark and whine and get you all stirred up to search for the cat. Have you noticed that when they walk past the cat, they touch noses with her and there is no barking, no stomping, and no chasing? They leave that to you.

Stella:    Well…that is just…wrong! Grrrrrr! It makes me want to….

Me:        To tell the other bulldogs off?

Stella:    No, it makes me want to chase a cat. Go find me a cat to chase.

Me:        Nope. Find your own.

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

My Heavy Crown – Stella’s Blog

As Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, I, Stella McStarFace the First, have many responsibilities.

  1. I have to guard all of my toys to make sure they aren’t misappropriated. Misappropriated is a long word that Lady Human taught me. It means stolen by bulldogs.
  1. I have to complain – loudly, using my outdoor voice in an inappropriate manner so I get maximum attention. Inappropriate is another of Lady Human’s long words. She uses those words when she stands in front of the bulldogs and talks and talks and talks, usually after someone has caused a riot or a ruckus. The speeches are pretty boring, but they increase my vocabulary so I don’t complain about them. Much. Usually I just drift off into a nap.

So what, you may ask, do I have to complain about? That list is lengthy and the                         subject for another blog post. In fact, I should include that list in a conversation with             Lady Human. That will save time. How do the humans put it? Kill two cats with one               stone.

           (Transcriptionist: No, not cats. The old expression is…oh, nevermind.)

Please ignore any interruptions by my staff. To continue –

           3. I have the primary responsibility for chasing Moon the Cat. Oh, the others pretend                 that they will, but when they come face to face with her, what do they do? They                       stare and walk on by, leaving all the real chasing for me. It is quite lazy of them and               selfish to boot. As much as I enjoy cat-chasing, the whole weight of it should not                   fall on me and my heavy head.

4. I am the bulldog representative to the humans, not just for complaining even                          though that is the most fun. The humans are pretty clueless and I let them know                    what needs to be done, such as when we need treats, and more treats, and                                  different types of treats, and more of those treats, too. I am also the taste-tester                    for all new treats. Unless it has my royal approval, it doesn’t get shared with the                      others. Of course, I don’t mind finishing off the rejects.

I am sure that I have other queenly responsibilities, but I don’t know what they are so I don’t care. Right now, I am going to exercise my prerogative to take a long nap. Being queen is a tiring business.

Signed,

Stella the First, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

What Were You Dreaming About? – Conversations with Stella

Stella:    Hello. I am Stella, the Olde English Bulldogge, here with Lady Human again. Why? I don’t know.

Me:        I was watching you sleep a while ago.

Stella:    That is creepy. Do you stare at the others while they are sleeping?

Me:        Occasionally, but I was watching you because you were obviously dreaming and I have never seen a dog so active during sleep.

Stella:    What was I doing?

Me:        Your hind legs pumped as though you were running. One even jumped off the ground. Your eyelids twitched. You ruffled your lips. You huffed and puffed like you were out of breath and your sides bellowed in and out. Then your ears perked up, shifting back and forth. Your front legs stayed still, but that was the only part of you that was not engaged in whatever was going on in your head. So what was your dream?

Stella:    I was wearing a crown because, you know…queen. I ran up a grassy hill, leading my people, the bulldog army. We were so many. We charged the cat because she had taken and hidden all of our treats.

Me:        A whole bulldog army to chase one cat?

Stella:    As the humans say, we meant business. Our treats had disappeared! They had to be rescued!

Me:        Rescued so that they could be eaten by you?

Stella:    Not all eaten by me. Most of them, yes because, you know…queen.

Me:        So how did the battle go?

Stella:    It was exciting! I was in the lead because…

Me:        Yeah, I know…queen.

Stella:    Now you understand. Anyway, I was running, but a bulldog with longer legs…I think it was Snoopey but it all happened so fast… passed me and others passed me and so I jumped over them. I tilted my ears left and right to direct which way the army would go. At the top of the hill I found the cat. I ruffled an order for her to leave the treats and depart. She pretended that she did not understand me and just sat licking herself as though she didn’t care. The treats were in a basket behind her. I was about to grab them with my big bulldog mouth when…I woke up. I was at home. There was no army. There were no treats. It was just a dream. Unless…

Me:        Unless what?

Stella:    You make my dream come true.

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Conversations with Stella – The Battering Ram

Stella and I are hashing out one of my issues today, not that I expect to get far with it.

Stella:   What does that mean? “Get far with it.” Does that mean you are going on a camping trip far away? Noooo!!! Not without me! I hate camping. I still don’t understand why we do it, but I want to go if you are.

Me:        That’s so sweet, Stella!

Stella:   Not sweet. I get bored when you are not around.

Me:        Still sweet. I must be a little bit interesting if you get bored without me.

Stella:   You throw the bouncy toys in the yard.

Me:        You don’t like the bouncy toys.

Stella:   I know, but you make the effort anyway.

Me:        What about Tall Man?

Stella:   He is not a bouncy toy sort of human. He is a walk around sort of human. When you are not here, we just walk around, looking at stuff. Who needs to look at what we have already seen? And he won’t let us play the cat chasing game.

Me:        Ah, you admit it at last. It is all a game. It is not about catching the cat at all.

Stella:   Who would actually want to catch a cat? Yuck!

Me:        On to my question. When you come in from outside, why must you ram the door the second that I open it? You knock past me every time. Even when I get down close to your face and tell you to enter calmly, you blow in like the last thunderstorm, do your Stella Hop around the room, and only then do you settle down.

Stella:   I don’t understand the problem.

Me:        You hit the door like a battering ram. In fact, the ancient Romans could have used you on some of their military campaigns. I have tried to stop you. I set myself against the door and open it slowly and BAM! Here you come blasting in.

Stella:   I don’t understand the problem.

Me:        All the other bulldogs WALK through the door, sometimes a little fast, but still they walk in.

Stella:   When they walk in, they are not being bulldogs. I am a bulldog. I am Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges as I have made abundantly clear on many occasions. I don’t simply enter a room. I make my presence known. Everybody knows when Stella is in the building.

Me:        Could you maybe be a little less bulldoggy when you come in?

Stella:   Less bulldoggy? NEVER!

Me:        Well, you heard it from the dog’s mouth. Until next time, farewell from me and Stella the Battering Ram.

Stella:   Hmmph!  That’s Queen Stella to you, Lady Human! And do not forget it!

Me:        How could I?

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

Stella’s Blog – No Barking at Breakfast

Hello! I am Stella, Queen (Yes, QUEEN) of the Olde English Bulldogges. Welcome once again to my blog. I like blogging because I have much to say on every subject, even subjects I know nothing about.

The sky has been crying a lot. Rain, the humans call it. But I am dry and comfortable. Why? Because I do not dance in the water like Miss Sweetie and Doodlebug. They are silly puppies and come back in the house painted with mud and who knows what else. I am dignified and all grown up and…oh, what’s that? The cat is running and I must catch her!  Aaaagghh! I slid on the floor. Missed chance! Where was I? Ah, I am a dignified grown-up and I don’t do silly things.

Which is why I want to complain about barking at breakfast.

I like a nice, quiet morning. Breakfast comes after outdoor potty time (take note, Miss Sweetie – outdoor potty time. There is no official indoor potty time ever.) Lady Human calls our food time “The Hallelujah Breakfast Club” and she eats with us. Not the same food  out of our bowls. I would not like that. Everybody, stay out of my bowl! I don’t want your dirty mouths in it. That goes double for Lady Human. I have no idea what humans eat or chew on. I don’t even want to think about it.

I have noted way too much loud bulldog talk during breakfast. Tiger is the biggest loudmouth. If I can wait patiently for my bowl to be filled, why can’t you,Tiger? And Doodlebug does not have to put his five pennies in either.

(Pause for consultation with transcriptionist)

 Two cents. I have been informed that the human expression is two cents. Very well. Two cents. It sounded more like five to me.

The point is they have nothing to say and it is too early to be listening to loud noises. Barking should be used for emergencies only, such as strangers, hurry up bathroom runs, Moon the Cat, and singing the song of our people.

So please, everyone, dogs and people, keep the barking down in the mornings. The only sound that we should hear is bulldog mouths chomping our food. Humans may stay if they eat silently.

Thank you for your kind attention. That is all.

Signed,

Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

We Don’t Need No Clocks!

Since a very young age, my daily life has run to the movement of a clock. Time to wake up, time to go to bed, time to go to school, time to go to work, time to go to church, time to go home. Even time to watch my favorite TV shows.

In the old, old days, people had sundials and, before that, they had the sun itself along with the moon and the patterned stars that counted the time as Earth twirled in a trustworthy rhythm on its axis. I believe those may have been steadier, more peaceable days.

Honestly, clocks kind of tick me off. (Sorry for the pun.)

I lose count of how many times a day I check a clock. Am I on time? Am I running late? Where did the day go? I should know. I was there the whole time. My attention to the clock has cost me time by sucking away my focus from where I should have been looking.

Our dogs do very well without clocks, thank you. They carry timers in their stomachs. Brunch is to be served at 11 a.m. precisely, seven days a week. And we had better not be late because massive hubbub ensues if we miss it by even a couple of minutes.

Foot-stomping, loud yawns, strange bulldog vocalizations. And then – BARKING! My interpretation of the mess call goes like this: “Hey! Did y’all forget something? Food! Food! Food!”

Our dog’s internal clocks are never off. They never have to be wound nor have their batteries changed. They are organic, the way I would like for my clocks to be.

“Oh, is it time to eat? My stomach just said so.”

 “How long until sunset? Long enough to play one more round of keep away.”

 “How many minutes are left for nap time? Wait, what’s a minute?”

 I understand. Clocks are human tools. I am a human. I will continue to use our tools. Still, it’s nice every once in a while to think, “What time is it?” and answer, “I don’t care.”

“And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years.” Genesis 1:14 KJV

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

Smack Talk – Cat Style

Moon, our cat, is part Siamese with a beautiful gray coat and serene blue eyes. When she talks, her comments consist primarily of soft meows, sometimes in a long, repetitive string and sometimes just a quick, clipped sound that lets you know she could say something. She just doesn’t want to. Unlike the vocal majority, aka the bulldogs, she walks a quiet path.

So when she started scrunching up her face and meowing in an irritated tone at Snoopey, I was bewildered. Why this sudden change in behavior? She only does it when Snoopey barks or whines at me. Snoopey never chases the cat. Perhaps as pack leader of the bulldogs, she considers cat chasing undignified. But Snoopey does join in excited barking at the cat when Moon  is running around the room.

Thus far, Moon has reserved this ugly talk just for Snoopey. Even though Stella is her greatest nemesis, she hasn’t thrown a single meow in her direction (at least not since the “meow to the face” event she pulled on each of the bulldogs while they were napping).

 

Watching the cat and listening to her, her attitude toward Snoopey seems to be “Oh, so you think you’re so tough! Look at my teeth. Sharp. And I am way quicker than any of you loud, rotund dogs. For all your stomping and trundling around, you’re not all that great! And stop yelling at the Lady. She’s not your servant! She’s my servant! So don’t go telling her what to do!

 I know Moon is having a “conversation” with Snoopey about something, and from the look on Moon’s face, it is a sore subject.

I don’t find smack talk all the helpful. We all need to vent every now and then. Vents allow the dangerous build up of pressure to escape without damage. If we’re venting in someone’s direction though, we have to be sure that while we are not letting ourselves explode with pent up feelings, we don’t direct a harmful column of words into someone else’s face.

“Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers.” (Ephesians 4:29 KJV)

Snoopey appears to be ignoring Moon’s cat diatribes. Moon showed her teeth again, wrinkled up her face and meowed. “Bulldogs, schmulldogs! You all look like a bunch of upside down vampires to me !”

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Stella’s Blog – Things that Make Me Mad

Hello. I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, and I have a few complaints.

(Transcriptionist: As usual.)

Hey, this is my blog. Stick your opinions in your own. This brings me to the first thing that makes me mad – the opinions of others unless they agree with mine. The humans talk about voting all the time. I’m not sure what voting is, but it sounds like someone else’s opinion and, therefore, another thing that would make me mad.

From what the humans say, I perceive that voting means you can choose a thing or a person and someone else can choose differently, and if enough people choose differently from you, YOU LOSE!

I don’t like that. So yes, voting is on my list of things that make me mad. I am the queen; I get to choose.

No voting allowed!

But if we did allow voting in the house, we bulldogs would outnumber the cat. Hmmm. And we could vote her out. That is unless Wiggles voted with the cat just to be “nice”. And then there is Tiger. I have suspected for a long time that Tiger has a secret peace treaty with the cat. Oh, she barks at the cat and stirs the rest of us up, but never have I seen Tiger actually chase the cat. Hmmm.

Then the other day, I watched Snoopey as she walked right up to the cat while the cat hissed at her and made an ugly face (no, that was her regular face, sorry). And what did Snoopey do? She TURNED AROUND AND WALKED AWAY!

I may not be able to count on the bulldog vote after all. So it is certain. Voting is one thing that makes me mad.

(Transcriptionist: Besides, the humans hold the power to veto.)

Veto? That sounds suspicious, like something else that would make me mad.

And I haven’t even gotten to other maddening things that I put on my list – things like:

  • Moon the Cat
  • The rule against cat chasing
  • Limitation of treats to only a few times a day
  • Wiggles getting more reward treats than the rest of us

(Transcriptionist: Because she earns more than the rest of you.)

Enough for this time. I will go back to work on my mad list. I can’t do anymore now. I am just so…so…so mad!

Signed, Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges

 [Transcriptionist’s note: Stella has gone to cool down and chew on her Nylabone. Meanwhile, we will close with this:

  “Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath.”  (Ephesians 4:26 KJV)]

 

No Screeching, Please! – Conversations with Stella

The Olde English Bulldogge known as Stella has a bone to pick with me so we’ll begin our conversation:

Stella:   Bone? Where’s a bone?

Me:        There is no bone. That’s just a human expression.

Stella:   Oh, as usual, humans playing jokes, trying to fool the poor old bulldogs. First dressing up as giant insects, now teasing us with non-existent bones.

Me:        Let’s not get into that giant insect thing again. I had hoped that you had forgotten about that.

Stella:   A giant insect does not fade from the memory.

Me:        Obviously not.

Stella:   I thought you had seen one and that is why you were screeching.

Me:        Screeching? I haven’t screeched about anything. What are you talking about?

Stella:   That horrible, high-pitched noise that was coming out of your mouth this morning. It hurt my ears so much; I wanted to cover them up.

Me:        I haven’t been screeching, Stella. I don’t know what you are talking about….unless…I found an old songbook that I had when I was little and I was singing out of it.

Stella:   Is a songbook one of those dead flat things that you hold on your lap and stare at and it causes you to pay no attention to us?

Me:        Well, yes, that or a regular book or a cell phone or a computer…

Stella:   Just because you found an old, dead songbook that you had when you were a puppy is no reason to screech in our ears over it.

Me:        Did my singing bother the others, too?

Stella:   Who cares? It bothered me.

Me:        I am sorry. I do enjoy singing sometimes.

Stella:   I enjoy chewing on a good stick sometimes, but I don’t pretend to be one of those humans who…Awwwww, you know, they take sticks and build boxes and stuff.

Me:        A carpenter? A craftsman?

Stella:   Yeah, those, I guess.

Me:        I don’t pretend to be a singer. And as for screechy noises, how about that voice you use that is so high-pitched and ear-splitting.

Stella:   You mean the Cat Chasing Song of my people.

Me:        Is that what you call it? It’s a bulldog song?

Stella:   It tells the bulldogs within ear range that there’s a cat afoot and it’s time to play.

Me:        So why are you allowed to sing all screechy and I am not?

Stella:   My song serves a purpose; yours, not so much.

Me:        Maybe we should both agree to cover our ears when the other one is “singing”.

Stella:   Or we can agree that you will sing silently in your head or buy a good recording of your songs. My song must be sung live and aloud. It is a treasured bulldog tradition.

Me:        Is that why you keep “singing” when I ask you to stop?

Stella:   You wouldn’t want to interfere with a tradition, would you?

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

I Demand to Speak to a Manager – Conversations with Stella

Stella, our opinionated Olde English Bulldogge, has a complaint she wishes to air. So let’s begin the conversation:

Me:        Hi, Stella! What’s the problem?

Stella:   Are you the one in command here? Because I only want to talk to the one in command.

Me:        Well, no bulldog, or cat for that matter, is in command that’s for sure. And “command” is not the best word. This is our home. It is not the army. The humans are in charge here. Why would you doubt that?

Stella:   Because first Snoopey and then Tiger each told me that they are in command. And because Wiggles is always disobeying and doing whatever she wants and she gets by with it because “she is so sweet” and “the sweetest dog ever”. Yuck! What gushy nonsense! Humans are supposed to be smart. How can you fall for that act?

Me:        Wiggles is super sweet. She dances in her comma shape and only wants head pets and neck rubs and the occasional treat.

Stella:   Aagghh! The occasional treat! I think you’ve lost count. But really, IS ANYONE IN CHARGE HERE?

Me:        We humans are. Why?

Stella:   Everything is so chaotic. Nobody is listening. Nobody obeys the rules.

Me:        Nobody? Not even you?

Stella:   Me? Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know. What was the question?

Me:        You want to know if anyone is in charge. You say that no one obeys the rules. Do you obey the rules?

Stella:   Me? Yes. Well, sometimes. Hmmm. I’m not really clear on what the rules are.

Me:        How about one rule? Is there a rule against chasing the cat?

Stella:   And that’s all the time we have for our conversation today, people…

Me:        Nope. We have plenty of time.

Stella:   But I don’t like that no-cat-chasing rule.

Me:        Not the point.

Stella:   Awwww!

Me:        I understand. Humans have rules set for us, too, and some of them I flat don’t like.

Stella:   So you ignore them.

Me:        No. If they are silly or useless, I may try to get them changed. But some rules are set by God and wisdom tells me that they are good and for my safety and they won’t change. God is God and I am not.

Stella:   Is the no-cat-chasing rule one of God’s rules?

Me:        I wish I could say it is, but no. It’s one of our rules.

Stella:   So about these changeable rules, how do I go about working on that?

Me:        Write your legislator, but I don’t think you’ll get far with that. Bulldogs can’t vote.

 

Copyright 2016 H.J.Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

Stella’s Blog – Hello, Cat! Where Are You?

Hello. I am Stella. I am an Olde English Bulldogge. In fact, I am their Queen. No one elected me. No committee selected me. I selected me.

It was hard sitting around the first two years of my life while no human understood who I really am. During that time, I was not accorded the honors due me as Queen. That was not the fault of my old humans per se. They were ignorant. I wasn’t wearing a crown.

When I came to my new home with my new humans, I made my status clear from the beginning. Once, Tall Man invited me to stay in a dome-shaped house in the backyard. Are you kidding me? There was no television. There was no cat to chase. Did that really look like the palace of a queen? I put on my best “We are not amused” sad face and succeeded in putting a quick end to that nonsense. Tall Man brought back into my main house right away.

I am Queen Stella. Treat me like a queen and give me treats and we will get along fine. Let me say it again. Give me treats!

I have been blogging more lately because I have a lot to say. Humans never stop talking so I figure neither should I. Bulldogs do not exercise their free speech rights often enough.

Anyone who has been around us for long has seen it. Other dogs are barking and the good old bulldog is just sitting there, slump shouldered, panting, maybe burping a little bit (it happens), but otherwise quiet, not saying anything. Every once in a while, we might blow out a lip ruffle simply to let the humans know that we don’t approve of what’s going on. We disapprove of much so the classic bulldog lip ruffle comes in handy.

Which leads me to my List of Offenders which has only two names on it this time:

Lady Human and Moon the Cat

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Lady Human disagrees with me and says humans do not belong on the List of Offenders and I say oh, yes, they do! This time Lady Human seems to be in cahoots with Moon the Cat. I have been looking for the cat in order to chase her and I can’t ever seem to find her. When I ask Lady Human where she is, Lady just smiles and says, “Oh, she’s around.” And then she adds something ridiculous like, “You shouldn’t chase the cat.”

Oh, yes, I should! Do you know what Moon the Cat was doing the past few days? She walked up to each of us bulldogs DURING NAPTIME and meowed right in our faces. Incredibly rude! And I hear new noises sometimes coming from above my head, coming from places I can’t see because I’m not tall enough (bulldog, remember?). I suspect that Moon has new high perches to hide on and spy down on us.

Lady Human thinks it’s funny now, but how funny will it be when the cat pounces down on her from the new high spot. And why does a cat have a perch anyway? She’s not a bird!

But no one listens to me. [deep bulldog sigh] I am only the Queen.

Signed, Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Conversations with Stella – Language Barrier

I’ll jump right into my conversation with Stella, the Olde English Bulldogge, with a question:

Me:        Stella, what in the world did you say to Wiggles that got her so wound up and freaked out?

Stella:   You know Wiggles. You don’t have to say much to her to freak her out.

Me:        But she was more agitated than I have ever seen her. I really want to understand how you all communicate with each other. You weren’t even talking at first…if that whiny weird bulldog type raw raw rah noise can be called ‘talking’…

Stella:   How insulting! Of course, it’s talking!

Me:        I’m never sure.

Stella:   What else would it be?

Me:        High pitched yawning. Low pitched burping.

Stella:   No, those are different. Allow me to demonstrate…

Me:        That’s okay. Not right now. What I witnessed between you two was, first, you calling her over to your crate and Wiggles responding.

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Stella:   Wiggles always does what I say.

Me:        We’ll get into that later. Wiggles was relaxed and then you two shared a silent, nose to nose conversation, no noises, just staring at each other, and Wiggles completely changed. She stood up straight. She hopped around Stella style…

Stella:   Thank you for naming that particular movement after me. I did invent it.

Me:        While I doubt that, calling it the Stella Hop is the easiest way for me to refer to it. Back to the point, you then verbally aimed Wiggles at the cat. What did you say to Wiggles that transformed her in an instant from a laid back, cat-friendly bulldog to a bulging-eyed bundle of nerves?

Stella:   Simple. I said, “Are you a bulldog or a cat? If you’re a bulldog, start acting like one! Now, go chase that cat off the piano!” And that’s when you interfered.

Me:        I am a human. What I do is correction, not interference.

Stella:   Well, it interfered with my plan.

Me:        I calmed her down, that’s all. I just wish I could understand what you all are saying, but the sounds make no sense to me.

Stella:   And you believe humans make sense. You never stop barking. Sit! Come! Go! No! By the way, are those two the same word, just with a different accent? And even after we do what we think you want us to do, you keep barking. It is all so confusing.

Me:        Sort of the way Wiggles was confused when you told her to chase the cat and she didn’t want to or understand why.

Stella:   No, that’s completely different. I can see that we still have a language barrier.

Me:        At least we’re working on it.

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Stella:   Humph! Stupid cat! Why can’t she act more like a bulldog? We outnumber her. You can hear us coming. She pads around on those silly soft feet and all of a sudden, WHOA! She’s right behind you. Hey, did you see where she sneaked into your room and knocked over some of your stuff?

Me:        Yes.

Stella:   You’ll never catch a bulldog knocking your stuff over or…oh…well, never mind.

 

“There are, it may be, so many kinds of voices in the world, and none of them is without signification.”

(1 Corinthians 14:10 KJV)

 

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey! Stop Bossing Me Around!

Only one word described the weather – wet. Excuse me. Let me make that clearer. WET!!!! The bulldogs were bored and their boredom fixated on the cat. Nobody wanted to go outside in all that water and we were taking advantage of pauses in the rain to encourage potty breaks.

Stella usually likes her bed. Again let me make that clearer. Stella LOVES her bed! And with all the down time due to the incessant bad weather, she had been a little cat-centric so she was chilling in her crate. Wiggles had just come back in from outside and was strolling around. Moon the Cat crossed the room and Wiggles trotted behind her for about three paces, then lost interest. The cat assumed her exalted position on top of the piano in serene splendor.

Well, that popped Stella’s cork.

She started whining and escalated to barking, but not at me. She barked to grab Wiggles’ attention and Wiggles ran to her side. Stella proceeded to read Wiggles the bulldog version of the Riot Act, face to face, muzzle to muzzle, nose to nose.

Sweet, calm, “I get along with everybody” Wiggles.

I don’t know what Stella said to Wiggles. I am not fluent in bulldoggese. But whatever it was, it changed Wiggles’ mind and attitude in a heartbeat.

Imagine the scene where a boss screams in the face of an employee for doing or failing to do something that the employee had no idea about, had never thought of, and didn’t even know could be done.

Within seconds, Wiggles jumped to attention, her ears sprang to the top of her head, and she did what I have never seen her do before. She performed a Stella Hop.

A Stella Hop is a sharp, quick jump left or right at about a 90 degree angle an inch or two off the ground with both front legs stiff and locked. She hopped left to face me. She hopped back to the right to face Stella and then repeated the maneuver. It is a high excitement, high energy move for a bulldog, and would be endlessly hilarious if it weren’t so obvious that the dog’s real response is confusion. I imagine that it sounds something like this inside their heads: Help me! Help me! Something is going on and I don’t know what to do. Tell me; please tell me what to do.

Wiggles’ eyes widened, round and bulging. She looked at me for help. Stella had flipped a switch inside her, but Wiggles had no idea what to do. I knew what Stella wanted because I was watching Stella’s gaze toward the piano. She wanted that cat to be chased and no one was accommodating her.

Poor Wiggles did a side take like a cartoon character rushing out of a room, but I called her back. She sat at my feet and I started the calm down process, stroking her head and repeating her name in a low voice. She melted and the real Wiggles showed back up in her face. She leaned her head into my hand and didn’t even seem to care anymore about Stella’s whiny fussing or Tiger’s barky contribution. (Tiger is an experienced cat chase instigator. She doesn’t chase the cat herself. Oh, no, she just gets the others stirred up into doing it.)

And the whole time, Moon the Cat sat on her piano throne from which she could survey her realm, like the true queen of the house.

I would so much like to be able to speak to Wiggles in a way she could understand and tell her not to give in to the bossy voices in the world. There is no shortage of them and being loud and demanding does not make them right. Wiggles, stop listening to the highest volume mouth in the room.

And once again, just like that, I have learned a life lesson from a dog.

 

©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

Conversations with Stella – Peace Talks, Part 2

Here we are – again. With me is Stella, the Olde English Bulldogge and today we will attempt to stay on topic:

What the Freak Can We Do to Bring Peace Back into Our House?

Stella:    We talked about that yesterday.

Me:        Only briefly. Mostly we got stuck on the subject of giant insects.

Stella:    I am totally opposed to peace talks with giant insects. No peace talks with them, not now, not ever.

Me:        I apologize for Stella. Once she gets an idea in her head, in true bulldog fashion, she doesn’t let go. Back to topic, how do we resolve the conflict between Tiger and Snoopey and between the bulldogs and Moon the cat?

Stella:    As I said before, get rid of the other dogs.

Me:        Nope.

Stella:    Get rid of the cat.

Me:        Nope.

Stella:    You and I go away on a long trip by ourselves and let them work things out.

Me:        Nope.

Stella:    Not camping. An air-conditioned hotel, long walks on the beach, treats, that sort of thing.

Me:        Nope.

Stella:    Tall Man can take care of the others. He won’t mind.

Me:        Not the point.

Stella:    You are right. Short walks on the beach. I don’t like long walks.

Me:        Again, not the point. Look, is it possible for you to talk to Tiger about the Snoopey issue, dog to dog?

Stella:    Teenagers don’t listen. Ask again in a few months. Tiger is all “I know everything. Don’t tell me what to do. Is it hot to you all in here? I feel like running. Watch me jump.” Listening is not strong with that one.

Me:        A short term solution then?

Stella:    Do what you tried this morning. Offer her a treat every time she comes inside and you want her to ignore Snoopey. It worked.

Me:        Oh, you saw that? I thought you were asleep.

Stella:    You had a treat in your hand. I can never be too soundly asleep to miss the scent of a treat floating around. Only when you do that with Tiger, give me a treat at the same time, just to keep the peace.

Me:        Hah! Just you? What about the others?

Stella:    They can make their own deals.

Me:        Treats are supposed to be earned.

Stella:    I earn a treat by my silence. You don’t know how hard it is to keep myself from barking at Tiger when she is acting like a jerk. And Tiger earns her treat when she comes in and doesn’t pick a fight with Snoopey. You don’t know how hard it is for Tiger not to act like a jerk.

Me:        And the cat chasing? How do we stop that?

Stella:    Why would we stop that?

Me:        Because it is loud, disruptive, and disorderly.

Stella:    And loads of fun and excitement. We’re running. And the cat’s running. And we’re jumping up on the furniture and knocking stuff over and the cat is on top of stuff and under stuff and behind stuff and everybody’s barking like mad…oh, I see.

Me:        We’ll keep talking about that. And your idea about a vacation is not a bad one. Maybe we can do that sometime.

Stella:    Only we have to go to a place where there are no giant insects!

Me:        That shouldn’t be too hard to find.

 

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.