When Humans Let Cats Rule – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I am witnessing the most ridiculous scene of the last one hundred years, at least since yesterday.

Me:        One hundred years? We truly have to work on your sense of time.

Stella:    Hey, I’m not the one who changed all the clocks and then complained about it. My stomach clock is still on Stella time. Doodlebug got up an extra hour early on his own. If you noticed, I didn’t budge.

Me:        I did notice. What is so ridiculous?

Stella:    You. The way you are sitting. The way you are letting the cat rule the roost. And she isn’t even a chicken.

Me:        I’m just allowing her a little bit to wake up from her nap.

Stella:    She is taking up most of your chair, Lady Human. YOUR CHAIR! NOT HER CHAIR! YOUR CHAIR! You are sitting on the edge of YOUR CHAIR, need I repeat it.

Me:        No, you need not. She’ll get up in a minute.


Stella:    This is what results from humans cutting cats too much slack. I’ve never seen so much slack in my life. Just look at her, all slacky and stretched out and slinky and catlike. Yuck.

Me:        She’ll move.

Stella:    Famous first words.

Me:        The expression is ‘Famous last words’.

Stella:    Exactly. First words become last words and the cat is still there. Give a cat an inch and she’ll take over your chair. Another human saying.

Me:        Not exactly.

Stella:    Well, it should be. When humans let cats rule, no chair is safe.






Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Bulldog Poetry in the Dark – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Me:        I am a little fuzzy on the whole queen thing. Can you give the bulldogs commands? Will they mind you?

Stella:    Can I? I can. Do I? All the time. Will they mind? Quien sabe? Did you notice that? I answered in Spanish. I am a bilingual dog! Yay me!

Me:        If you say so.

Stella:    I know you, Lady Human. You would not be bringing this question up if there were not something you want me to order the bulldogs to do.

Me:        Yes. PLEASE, no more extended barking during the dark.

Stella:    Who was doing that?

Me:        You know who.

Stella:    Was it me?

Me:        No. Wait. Wouldn’t you know if you were barking?

Stella:    Not if I were in the middle of one of my wonderful Flying Stella squirrel chasing dreams. Wonderful. Flying. Me.

Me:        No, it was not you. It was Miss Sweetie. It was 5 a.m., really 4 a.m. if you don’t go by Daylight Savings Time, also known as Fake Time. Not a sunray in sight and she was popping off and nothing was wrong. It was pitch dark and I was trying to sleep.


Stella:    Of course, nothing was wrong. And that was not barking.

Me:        You could’ve fooled me.

Stella:    We often do, Lady Human. You notice that no one else joined in.

Me:        So, she was not barking even though it sounded just like barking.

Stella:    It was Bulldog Poetry. Sweetie is a Bulldog Poet like me.

Me:        What was she saying?

Stella:    Oh, I don’t know. It was pitch dark and I was trying to sleep.



Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.