I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.
Sweetie: Lady Human, those long sticks look yucky. Throw them away.
Me: First off, since when does a bulldog think anything looks yucky. Secondly, these carrots can be made into a soup or baked in a casserole, so no, I will not waste them.
Doodlebug: But they’re all limp and saggy and smooshy and…yellowy brown.
Me: But they’re not bad. Waste not, want not.
MoonCat: I definitely “want not”.
©️ 2025. H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.
Sweetie: That was good, Lady Human, but not nearly enough.
Me: That’s all for now.
Sweetie: MORE!
Me: Yelling won’t get you more.
Doodlebug: What if we both yell? MORE!
Me: Even less likely you’ll get more. More will make you bloated and you’ll feel bad.
Sweetie: Then how come I want more?
Me: One of the great philosophical questions of our time.
MoonCat: The answer is obvious. Need I say it aloud. Oh, all right. BULLDOG!
©️ 2025. H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.
Sweetie: Lady Human, where is our food, please?
Me: Oh, yeah, it’s about that time, isn’t it?
Sweetie: Oh, not that “time” thing again.
Me: Well, it’s on schedule.
Sweetie: But the other day, you changed the “time” when we ate, so this “schedule” thing must not be all that.
Doodlebug: And a bag of potato chips. Are potato chips on the “schedule” thing? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind it if they were. Wonderful things, potato chips.
MoonCat: Wonderful things – regular meals and never being really hungry. Don’t forget the important stuff. And the occasional can of tunafish.
©️ 2025. H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.
Sweetie: What is that delicious smell-good that is invading my nose? Ooh, it’s coming from the bag in the kitchen.
Me: No, no, no! That’s trash!
Doodlebug: It doesn’t smell like trash. Well, maybe it does. But that’s not a bad thing. Sometimes.
Me: There are no goodies in there for anybody. You’re probably smelling the greasy food leftovers from last night.
Sweetie: I must have missed that. Give me my greasy leftovers.
Me: Sorry, hon, they would upset your stomach.
Sweetie: Never waste food. A bulldog’s mouth is the perfect trash bag.
MoonCat: An accurate description if I ever heard one.
©️ 2025. H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.
Sweetie: How come you’re so quiet, Lady Human?
Me: I’m just thinking.
Doodlebug: Uh-oh.
MoonCat: A human thinking. Never a good thing. Hide!
Me: No, nothing bad. It’s just another holiday. New Year’s.
Sweetie: Where is its tree?
Me: New Year’s doesn’t get its own tree.
Doodlebug: Poor New Year’s. What does it get?
Me: Some people party. Some people cook a bunch of food. Some people shoot off fireworks. And some people like me are just quiet and think a lot. About the past. About the future.
Sweetie: About the food? Where are those food people? Let’s go New Year with them!
Copyright 2024. H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges. Me, first! Me, first!
Me: You first what?
Sweetie: Me first to get the food you have in your hands!
Me: Who says I have food in my hands?
Doodlebug: Aw, Lady Human, the only things you ever have in your hands are food or some mess we made that you just cleaned up. And what you’re carrying right now does not smell like a mess.
Me: Well, it’s not, but it’s not our kind of food either. It’s food for the parakeets.
Sweetie: That counts!
MoonCat: No. I guarantee you. It does not.
Copyright 2024 H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Old English Bulldogges. Where is supper, Lady Human?
Me: Coming…There! How’s that look?
Sweetie: That’s wrong!
Doodlebug: Yeah, where’s the good stuff?
Me: That is good stuff.
Sweetie: No. No. No. Where’s the good stuff! You know. The GOOD STUFF!
Me: I don’t have any of the canned meat today, if that’s what you mean.
Doodlebug: MoonCat is getting some!
Me: MoonCat is getting cat food made for cats.
Sweetie: Yeah, but it smells wonderfully stinky and it’s in a can so why not let us try it?
Me: Nope. Let’s not cross that line.
Doodlebug: Not fair.
MoonCat: Eminently fair. And delicious. AND FOR CATS. Some lines should never be crossed.
Copyright 2024 H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges. Okay, when is it? When is it? When is it?
Me: When is what?
Sweetie: The special teatime you keep talking about. We’re ready.
Me: Oh, that’s just a human thing.
Doodlebug: Oh, no. Bait and switch, everybody!
Me: No, not ‘bait and switch’. You have your afternoon food. I have mine.
Sweetie: Yeah, hmmpphh. You get the good stuff.
MoonCat: No, I think, if you pay attention, you’ll see that Lady Human and I both get the good stuff. I’m glad that’s settled.
Copyright 2024 H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.
Me: Sweetie? Why haven’t you eaten your food?
Sweetie: I can’t. There’s a bug on my bowl.
Me: Oh, it’s just a fly. Shoo it off.
Sweetie: Do you eat food that a fly has sat on?
Me: As a matter of fact…
Sweetie: Ooo! Don’t tell me!
Me: Look. A fly wouldn’t stand a chance of sitting on your bowl if your big ole bulldog mouth would eat when your food is set down and not hours later.
Sweetie: There’s just no telling where its feet have been.
MoonCat: No doubt all the same places your feet have been.
Copyright 2024 H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.
Sweetie: Okay, what are you up to, Lady Human?
Me: Up to? Whatever do you mean?
Sweetie: I saw you fooling around with our softie food. You hid something in it, didn’t you?
Me: Would I do that?
Doodlebug: Absolutely!
Sweetie: Yes, without question!
MoonCat: Do I even need to answer that?
Me: Don’t you want this wonderful smelling treat? Mmmm! It’s so good. It’s your favorite!
Sweetie: It does smell good.
Doodlebug: It does look good.
MoonCat: Ask the question, bulldogs. What’s the catch?
Sweetie: Is this a bribe?
Doodlebug: Yeah, you want us to do something we wouldn’t do otherwise.
Sweetie: But it does look good.
Doodlebug: And it does smell good. Oh, all right. Give it here.
Sweetie: Mmmm. Is there any more?
Me: Not right now.
MoonCat: You all sold out cheap.
Copyright 2024 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges. What is the meaning of this? I have never been treated so shabbily in my life!
Me: What’s the problem now?
Doodlebug: There is some kind of muck in my food bowl.
Sweetie: Back to a one star review.
Me: We’ve been over this. This is not a hotel or a restaurant.
Sweetie: Good thing. You wouldn’t be in business by sundown.
Me: The “muck” in your bowl is fresh homemade food, made just for y’all.
Doodlebug: I beg your pardon. Our standards are higher than this.
Me: Higher standards? Like when I caught you trying to eat your own…
Sweetie: Don’t bring that up, Lady Human. That’s a painful memory. And a foul smell.
Copyright 2024 H.J. Hill. All Rights Reserved.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges. Where is Lady Human?
Sweetie: She’s here in the food room, staring at a pot.
Doodlebug: Did the pot ask to be stared at?
Sweetie: Yeah, is it that good-looking, ma’am? Is it better looking than I am? ‘Cuz I don’t think so.
Me: No, I’m just heating some water to make tea.
Doodlebug: Does staring at it help?
Me: No, in fact, there’s an old saying about watched pots never boiling and…
Sweetie: Then stop it right now!
MoonCat: Yes, because I’m staring at my empty food bowl and it’s still not filling up.
Copyright 2023 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges.
Sweetie: Lady Human, you all have fouled things up again.
Me: Whatever do you mean?
MoonCat: Meow. Dinnertime. Late. Fix it. Now.
Me: Well, I’ve been going by the time change, so, yes, I guess mealtimes seem late the last few days.
Doodlebug: Seem? There’s no seem about it. Where’s the food?
Me: Since it’s been getting a little darker earlier and the time changed, you all have been eating at different times so…
Sweetie: I’m not talking about what WE have been doing. I’m talking about what YOU have been doing. How come meals are late?
MoonCat: Meow. We have been patient.
Sweetie: Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You humans have been fooling around with the sun again. Telling us when it will rise and when it will set.
Doodlebug: Yeah, as though you know!
MoonCat: I know this. Hungry. Food. Give it. NOW!
Outright 2023 H. J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
I am Doodlebug, King of the Olde English Bulldogges. What is that you are doing, Lady Human? What is in your hand?
Me: Well, it’s your food bowl.
Doodlebug: It’s not my food bowl. My food bowl is always over there, ready when I want it.
Sweetie: Yeah, what are you trying to do, ma’am? Confuse us? Leave well enough alone.
Me: His food bowl comes close to getting spilled every time I walk through here.
Doodlebug: Then don’t walk through here. Walk through there.
MoonCat: Meow. Don’t move my food bowl. How will I find it in the dark?
Me: Uh, the same way you find everything else in the dark?
MoonCat: Hmmm. Questionable.
Sweetie: We are set in our ways. If it ain’t fixed, don’t break it.
Me: I think you mean “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”.
Sweetie: That’s what I said.
Doodlebug: We like the way we have things set up. If you go changing the setup, no telling what might happen.
Sweetie: Yeah, Lady Human, we might go changing your set ways. Then where might your food bowl end up.
Copyright 2023 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
“Resist temptation! Resist it! Resist! Oh, doggone it! Why’d they leave it out where it could call my name?”
Copyright 2023 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Hello. We are about to enjoy an evening snack as soon as Lady Human says it has cooled down enough. I am looking forward…ew, who has bad breath?
Me: Since he just this second walked in from outside, you have one guess.
Stella; Doodlebug! Aaaaggghh! Gag! Gag! Gag!
Me: I caught him off in the corner of the yard where he evidently located a ‘snack’.
Tiger: Pee-yoo. Doodle, we’re about to have a real food snack. Why are you eating leftovers outside?
Doodlebug: I’m hungry now. Why wait?
Wiggles: Because that nasty stuff out there is waste.
Doodlebug: But you raid the waste basket all the time.
Wiggles: That’s different. That’s indoor waste. It’s fresher and only stinks in a good way.
Miss Sweetie: All Doodle is doing is what the humans call ‘recycling’. I thought that was a good thing.
Me: Mmmmm. Different. We don’t eat our recyclables. Especially not that kind of recyclable.
Stella: That stuff we leave outside is no better than junk food, Doodle boy. And, speaking of food, where is that good food snack you promised us, Lady Human? It should be cool enough by this time.
Me: Here it comes. Scrambled eggs.
Stella: I hope you left room for real food, Doodlebug. If not, I will be happy to take yours.
Doodlebug: Not necessary, Aunt Stella. I always have room for more. Bring it on!
Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Chickens live in our yard. Why? Lady Human will not let us chase them or eat them. What good are they? Fluffy white little weird two-legged things that have wings but cannot fly, that make loud squawky noises but never say anything intelligent. It’s almost like they are cats.
Me: Why are you so down on the chickens? I’ve seen you standing out there staring at them.
Stella: Because they are funny-looking and funny smelling. And their pointy faces look angry all the time, so I keep waiting for them to tell me why. As queen, I may be able to do something about their complaints.
Me: Are you now going to be queen of the Silkie Chickens?
Stella: Hmmm. If they need a queen, I would be willing to serve. But they would have to stop being so weird.
Me: They don’t think that they are weird. They just think that they are chickens.
Stella: What is that you have there? Eggs?
Me: Yes.
Stella: That doesn’t look like the eggs that they have kicked at us in the yard.
Me: Those were raw. These are hard boiled. I cooked them.
Stella: How horrible! Lady Human, you cooked the chickens’ babies? NO!
Me: We talked about this, Stella. These eggs were never going to be baby chickens. There is no rooster. That means there is no daddy. These eggs will just stay eggs. I didn’t notice you and the others refraining from the eggs that they kicked at you. Where was your outrage then?
Stella: We figured that any eggs they kicked out couldn’t be their babies so…Wait, what are you giving Wiggles, and Sweetie, and Tiger, and Doodlebug?
Me: I just peeled the shells off the cooked eggs. Would you like to try one?
Stella: Well, if you’re giving them away…I guess I could taste one…just one.
Me: Here.
Stella: Where have these been all my life? More. More! MORE!
Me: One is enough for now. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing. What do you have to say about chickens now?
Stella: How many chickens are there?
Me: Six.
Stella: And how many of these things can they lay?
Me: About one a day. Sometimes they skip a day.
Stella: So where are all the eggs they have been laying?
Me: We and our human neighbors have a claim on them, too, you know.
Stella: Not anymore.
Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges.
Wiggles: And I am Wiggles, Destroyer of Garbage.
Me: Yeah, I know. I found the remains.
Wiggles: Isn’t it cool?
Me: No, it is not cool.
Wiggles: Waste not, want not. Isn’t that what smart humans say? I don’t know what that means, but it sounds good.
Me: When I throw something away, there is a reason and I expect it to stay thrown away.
Wiggles: And it did stay thrown away, Lady Human. It stayed thrown away in my stomach.
Stella: Why don’t I get these gourmet opportunities?
Me: Since when is garbage a gourmet opportunity?
Stella: Since it came home in a paper bag and smelled delicious. Paper bags are bulldog clues. They always carry delicious leftovers as you humans call them. What was in that bag?
Me: What I failed to eat of a sub sandwich.
Stella: Sandwich. Mmmm. Let me guess. Bread. Meat. Fragrant sauce. Why did you not offer that to me? Why was I not favored with special garbage?
Me: It’s not good for you. I can count on you not to nose through the trash. I can’t count on Wiggles. I forgot. My mistake.
Wiggles: Awww. But I disposed of the garbage for you. I am a helpful dog. Think how much less garbage would be on Earth if you just let me run through it.
Me: You may have a point. You might qualify as the environmental wonder of the world. Still…the upset stomach…
Wiggles: Oh, I forgot about that. All right. I’ll just rummage through our own trash. That will still be a big help.
Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Sure, we bulldogs get food. Lady Human measures it out to us every morning. She says the white coat lady whom she calls Vet (humans have such bizarre names) says that we should not eat too much, or we will get fat. Very well. But why shouldn’t we get special food, especially if we are not allowed to overeat?
Me: What special food are you talking about?
Stella: You can’t fool me.
Me: I didn’t know that I was trying to fool you.
Stella: I see when you sneak great smelling stuff into the cat’s bowl, ignoring the rest of us.
Me: Great smelling stuff like…tuna fish? Salmon? Really?
Stella: Just proof that you don’t love us as much as you love Moon the Cat…wait, sorry, MOONCAT.
Me: You’ve gotten special salmon dog food before.
Stella: When?
Me: I don’t remember. Sometime.
Stella: If it didn’t happen in the last ten minutes, it didn’t happen. Step up your game, Lady Human. Do you eat the same thing every day?
Me: Yeah, until the leftovers are gone.
Stella: Leftovers? What are leftovers?
Me: Something a bulldog would never experience.
Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Right Reserved.
I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I am strolling around the yard with Lady Human, not doing any business if you know what I mean. We are just checking out spring. What are you staring at?
Me: You.
Stella: Yes, I do deserve your undivided attention.
Me: I like watching how you work your nose.
Stella: Haven’t you heard? Humans say that bulldogs are not a “working” breed.
Me: Looks like work to me.
Stella: I am reading the ground. I think that is how a human would put it. But not the way you read one of those silly things you call a “book” because that would just be weird. You would have to put it on the ground and stick your nose on it and sniff and sniff and leave some nose drool and a nose print on it. I can’t really imagine you doing that.
Me: So, when you read the ground, what do you learn?
Stella: Who passed by this way, what they had to eat, whether this is their favorite pee spot. Stuff like that.
Me: Yeah, you wouldn’t get much out of my books.
Stella: You mean I wouldn’t be able to tell who had handled it, or who had just eaten pizza or a hamburger or a chicken treat, or who had peed on it?
Me: I certainly hope not.
Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
Bulldoggy 