Who’s a What? – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I am a good girl.

Me:        Yes, you are.

Stella:    What am I?

Me:        A good girl.

Stella:    Are you sure?

Me:        Yes. Good girl.

Stella:    Why?

Me:        Why what?

Stella:    Why am I a good girl?

Me:        Well, when we go out, you won’t jump on people or attack other dogs.

Stella:    So, I am a good girl because of what I don’t do.

Me:        Yeah…

Stella:    That’s all ‘good girl’ means then.  I don’t act like a jerk when we go out. Okay.

Me:        ‘Good girl’ is shorthand for everything you are. You are trustworthy. I can take you anywhere and not have to worry about your behavior. And when so many people are afraid of bulldogs…

Stella:    I know! Why are they like that?

Me:        Bad experiences, I guess. I don’t know, but ‘good girl’ means I can trust you. And ‘good girl’ means that you don’t try to stuff everything in the house into your mouth. I can leave the room and come back to find the furniture still intact. And ‘good girl’ also means that you do not bark insanely over nothing the way some we know do.

Stella:    Name names. Oh, let me! Snoopey. Miss Sweetie. And Tiger, every other day. Say more about me!

Me:        You have a sweet temper. You are patient when I have a lot to do.

Stella:    Like when I wait for the bathroom door to open so I can go potty.

Me:        The back door.

Stella:    That’s what I said. I always wait for the bathroom. I am a good girl.





Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.






Who’s A Good Boy? I Don’t Care! – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Humans have annoying habits. I plan to make a long list of them some day. Lady Human has the annoying habit of telling Doodlebug what a ‘good boy’ he is. Over and over again, she says, ‘Who’s a good boy?’ As Doodlebug is the only boy dog here, the answer is obvious. The question need not be asked. If there is a good boy, it has to be Doodlebug. Nobody else qualifies.

Me:        What’s wrong with encouraging Doodlebug with some positive words? So, I call him a ‘good boy’ when he does what he is told.

Stella:    Tell me, Lady Human, what great feat did he perform to merit all this praise? Did he save human or dog lives? Did he climb a mighty mountain or swim across a sea? Did he bake enough treats for all of us to have our fill?

Me:        Well, no. Not any of those things.

Stella:    Why is he such a ‘good boy’ then?

Me:        He stopped rampaging when I asked him. And he went into his crate when it was time for me to go to the store. And…

Stella:    Woo-hoo! Good boy, Doodlebug!

Doodlebug:   I know.

Stella:    You know, don’t you, ‘good boy’,that cooperation goes against everything we bulldogs stand for.

Me:        Don’t I tell you that you are a good girl?

Stella:    Not nearly often enough.

Me:        Good girl.

Stella:    Well, yeah.

Me:        Aw, Stella, who’s a good girl?

Stella:    I am?

Me:        You had better believe it, good girl!

Stella:    I am a good girl. Take that, Doodlebug! I am a good girl!

Doodlebug:   I know. And I’m a good boy. What’s the big deal?



Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Dancing Dogs

I grew up in a denomination that frowned on dancing. The belief was that dancing only promoted temptation to sinful thoughts and, therefore, like buying lottery tickets, might open the door to some seriously wicked stuff.

Me: “But it looks fun.”

Counterpoint: “I will set no wicked thing before mine eyes…” Psalm 101:3

Me: “But King David wrote that and he danced before the Lord with all his might. 2 Samuel 6:14.”

Counterpoint: That was King David. And that’s just not us.

I guess the lesson was that kingship hath its privileges and we simply weren’t dancers.

So I never danced, except once at school when we learned square dancing and folk dancing for about four weeks. I was told that was okay because it was school. I never let on how much fun I had and I don’t remember any temptations.

Now I dance when I am alone and only God can see. He doesn’t mind my lack of timing or my clumsiness. Oh, and I dance in front of the bulldogs who are some fine dancers themselves. They jump with both front legs bouncing up and down at the same moment. They prance, lifting their legs high in front of them, one at a time as they scoot forward on their paws.

Stella is the best at prancing. She will jump forward with one leg held stiffly out in front of her and tap the ground every few feet, or she will put her head down and rhythmically beat the floor with alternating front paws as she moves. And she sashays.

Wiggles has a different style. She performs what we call the “comma dance”. When she is really excited and playful, she forms herself tightly into a circle, head toward tail, and dances with her feet near the ground. The only thing is, having the wide girth of a bulldog, she can’t close the circle so she looks like a dancing comma. In that position, she whirls around and around, awaiting our approval before she straightens herself out.

I like dancing. Both of my daughters studied dance. It was good exercise and discipline. And if joyful creatures like bulldogs can do it, I can, too – only not where any humans can see me.

“Let them praise His Name in the dance…” Psalm 149:3


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.