I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, and Lady Human is having a bulldog problem, as usual. What is it this time, Lady Human?
Me: Do you see what Doodlebug is doing?
Stella: Yes. And?
Me: Do you see him at the end of the leash?
Stella: Yes. Where else would he be? The middle of the leash?
Me: Do you see my feet sliding across the floor as he pulls me along?
Stella: Yes. You are going to have to run along with him if you are going to get anywhere fast. Right now, he is dragging you at about an inch a minute, which isn’t bad if you are only going an inch or so. Boy howdy, you must not weigh as much as you think you do. He’s in control of that leash.
Me: Well, he weighs about 80 pounds and I weigh…considerably more than that.
Stella: And he has 4 feet to work with and you only have two. And his shoulders are muscular and yours are not.
Me: I’m still on my feet.
Stella: Is that doing you much good?
Me: I haven’t given up.
Stella: You might as well. Bulldog, Lady Human. Bulldog. We are the dog version of a big rig truck.
Me: How do you know about trucks?
Stella: I keep my eyes open when we are in your rolling box. I see those big rigs. Sometimes, if everything is just right, I look up and see a driver look down at me and smile. I try to smile back, but to be honest, I probably just end up looking bulldoggy.
Bulldogs are like those trucks. We were built to haul big loads like you.
(Lady Human, is that the best picture you have of Doodlebug?
Yes, it is the only time I’ve caught him standing still.)
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Bulldoggy 