Why Must Humans Sing? – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I have complained about this before.

Me:        Enlighten me. There are so many things that fall in that category.

Stella:    Human singing. I asked for ear plugs to protect against chicken squawking, but they will work against human singing, too. By the way, I have not seen those ear plugs yet. Hint. Hint.

Me:        I’m not turning ear plugs over to a bulldog. They would turn into a snack and then a problem.

Stella:    How am I to protect my precious cute little ears from human singing then?

Me:        Are you complaining about the old musical that is playing right now? Because that is the only human singing going on. I am not singing.

Stella:    And for that, Lady Human, we are all grateful. But right now, I mean the humans singing on the Picture Box.

Me:        They sing beautifully. How can you not like…?

Stella:    Do you have dog ears? Can you hear what we hear? All those high notes assaulting us?

Me:        I do like musicals. You can retreat to the other room if the sounds are bothering you.

Stella:    Why can’t we just turn it off? Why must humans sing at all?

Me:        Music is a gift from the LORD. We should enjoy it. It is part of our lives.

Stella:    Life is good. The Great Creator is good. His gifts are good. If you would just tone it down a little bit, especially during nap time.





Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.



Random Gifts from the Sky – Conversations with Stella and the Pack

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges…

Me:        Can someone tell me what went on outside?

Stella:    Many mysterious things go on outside, Lady Human. Can you be specific?

Me:        Yes. I found a small apple which had one piece sliced off, obviously by a human. Alongside it was a long scrap of orange fabric.

Stella:    Fascinating.

Snoopey:   Not really. Where did you find this, Lady Human?

Wiggles:    They were under the pecan tree. Nobody, no human that is, threw them there. The trajectory was wrong.

Me:        Trajectory? You know about trajectory?

Wiggles:   Common sense, Lady Human.

Miss Sweetie:    Is this a trick, Lady Human? Did you drop them, so we could find them? I mean, fruit? Really?

Me:        No, Sweetie, I did not drop them out there or anywhere. And they weren’t out there early this morning.

Tiger:    Maybe Jerky McSquirrelyFace dropped them from the tree. A sort of peace offering?

Stella:    Yuck. He may have poisoned them. Where are they, Lady Human?

Me:        I threw them away immediately and washed my hands. There were long, thin scrapes on the apple and an edge had been bitten off by a small mouth.

Stella:    The mystery of the apple and the cloth. Jerky could have done it. I doubt it was a peace offering though. Wait. What about the hawks? They could have dropped them.

Tiger:   Why would they give up a good piece of fruit?

Stella:    The crows could have been chasing them. And the hawks prefer fresh meat, not nasty throw aways like apples. They like things like…small bulldogs! NOOO!!!

Me:        No problem, Stella. The hawks are not coming for you.

Stella:    Well, who did drop the apple and the cloth? Did the Great Creator drop it as a gift?

Me:        Not impossible, but generally the Great Creator uses humans to deal with fruit and cloth deliveries. Bottom line, if any of you find anything weird outside, please don’t eat it. Please alert me or Tall Man so we can check it out. Okay?

Stella:    Sure.

Tiger:     Yeah.

Snoopey:   Okay.

Miss Sweetie:    Maybe.

Doodlebug:   I’ll think about it. Depends on how good, or bad, it smells. The worse, the better.



Copyright 2018 H.J Hill All Rights Reserved.




Gifts – Use ‘Em, Don’t Abuse ‘Em

I bought a commercial brand bed pad for Snoopey after having made her one from some stout fabric and a bunch of left-over stuffing material that just sat around being lazy. Every good thing has a use. Nobody and nothing is without a purpose.

Snoopey never tore at the pad I made the way Wiggles and Tiger tore at theirs. She liked it a lot, but it was bulky and hard to wash and the fabric collected and held onto dog hair like a hoarder at a multi-family garage sale snatches up knick-knacks. (There are hoarders, and then there are collectors. I argue for my part that I am the latter. Don’t try to talk me out of it.)

So I bought a bed with a zippered cover that could be removed for washing and with a recessed cushioned center. I thought it was nicer looking than the one I had made (it was) and it would be so much easier to clean. Snoopey treaded it thoroughly, snuggled down into the center, and went to sleep. Success! Gift giving is so difficult when you don’t know what others like.

And then I found her tearing apart two seams and pulling the stuffing out. So much for the perfect gift. Why, Snoopey, why?

You never quite know how someone is going to use, or abuse, a gift you give them. Perhaps they won’t use it at all.

I have been guilty of failing to use gifts on so many occasions that I have lost track. I have literally found a gift in a drawer or a closet, never touched since the day I received it, and realized, “Hey, I needed this. I could have been using this the whole time.” Why didn’t I? And I have found gifts that were stashed away for so long that they had rusted and crumbled to iron-red dust.

Gifts are meant to be used. Gifts are meant to be shared. At the very least gifts are meant for more than storing away or tearing to shreds.

Now I must learn another lesson – how to repair a dog bed so that a bulldog cannot easily rip it apart.


©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.