Dog Days – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, and, as Queen, I have the authority to declare this: IT IS HOT!!!

Me:        Yep, if you say so, it’s official. The Dog Days of Summer have begun. You know how I knew it.

Stella:    Because it is hot?

Me:        Well, that, and I found Wiggles and Sweetie down in the hole y’all have dug under the picnic table.

Stella:    Because it is hot.

Me:        95 degrees at dusk. I guess that qualifies.

Stella:    Dog Days. Why can’t the Dog Days be pleasant? Why must Dog Days be hot? Not fair!

Me:        Some people count them from the rising of Sirius, the Dog Star, at dawn…

Stella:    Wait! There is a star that‘s a dog? Why didn’t you tell me? Can we go visit him? Where is he? Show me! This is great! I always suspected there were dogs out there.

Me:        It’s not a dog, honey. It’s just called that because it is the brightest star in a constellation that reminded ancient people of a dog. Like a picture in the sky made by stars.

Stella:    Ancient people? Just where are these ancient people because I have some questions.

Me:        They’re not around for your questions. Sorry.

Stella:    Typical. Humans playing with dogs’ hopes and dreams again. I don’t think these Dog Days have anything to do with us at all. Hmmmph! If these are true Dog Days, where are the treats and toys?





Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Bring on the Dog Days

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.