Big Game Hunting – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Me:        Why are you whispering?

Stella:    SHHHHH! Sorry, that was loud. Shhhhh! Quiet!

Me:        Why are we whispering then?

Stella:    I am big game hunting. Hunters must be silent and stealthy.

Me:        Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Squirrels?

Stella:    Phhhffft. I said BIG game hunting. Squirrels? Big game? Please.

Me:        Are you hunting rats?

Stella:    What part of ‘big’ don’t you understand, Lady Human?

Me:        I’ve seen some good-sized rodents in my time.

Stella:    Bulldog sized?

Me:        Honestly, no. So, are you hunting a raccoon?

Stella:    Nope.

Me:        A possum?

Stella:    Nope.

Me:        Please say that you are not hunting a skunk.

Stella:    Lady Human, really. Do we ever have raccoons, possums, or skunks in the house?

Me:        No. Praise the LORD!

Stella:    What is the only other non-bulldog animal in the house that I could be hunting?

Me:        My parakeet, Pearl? No, surely not sweet little Pearl.

Stella:    What? A bird? No! Yuck! I said BIG GAME! I am hunting Moon the Cat. Shhhhh!

Me:        Oh, you are hunting the cat. I see…

Stella:    Shhhhh! I know where she is hiding.

Me:        Where?

Stella:    There, under the couch.

Me:        Nope.

Stella:    What do you mean? She is right there. I can smell her.

Me:        Yeah, she moved on from that spot about 30 minutes ago.

Stella:    Then what is that shadow? Aaaaggghh! Is it a giant insect that smells like a cat?

Me:        I think you are looking at a couch leg.

Stella:    It’s not the cat?

Me:        No, sorry.

Stella:    How am I ever going to be a big game hunter if I can’t track a simple cat?

Me:        For one thing, Moon is not what I would call ‘big game’.


Stella:    She is the biggest animal here.

Me:        She weighs about 25 pounds. You weigh 50 pounds. Do the math.

Stella:    I am a bulldog. I don’t like math.



Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.







Scent-seeing: Conversations with Stella

I, Stella, Queen of the Illustrious Olde English Bulldogges…no, that didn’t come out right. I am Illustrious. The bulldogs are…well, bulldogs which is pretty special but not necessarily Illustrious. Anyway, I am back to answer Lady Human’s latest silly question.

Me:        Silly? I beg your pardon!

Stella:    Oh, Lady Human, you don’t have to beg me. I pardon you anyway. What is your silly question?

Me:        Without agreeing that it is silly, I was wondering why Tiger spent so much time walking around the yard today. She’s been out there thousands of times. She surely knows every square inch of it by now. What else is there to see?

Stella:    There you go again, showing your human ignorance and prejudices. It’s not what there is to see; it’s what there is to smell. We read the world by scent the way you read the annoying little boxes you carry around in your hands. The smells change every moment. All it takes is a fresh breeze to blow a new odor across our path. Then our brains kick into motion and we become bulldog detectives like that Sherlock Bones.

Me:        Holmes.

Stella:    Isn’t that what I said?

Me:        Never mind.

Stella:    Humans don’t appreciate how much time it takes to sort out all the scents that penetrate our intelligent noses. Other dogs, for example, and the things they leave behind. It’s like reading what you humans call ‘the news’.

Squirrels and their nut collections. Selfish little pecan thieves! They make me so mad! Leave some for the rest of us!

Raccoons which, by the way, smell a lot like a human garbage can to me – interesting and appetizing. I sometimes understand why Wiggles is a trash diver. And then there are other times that I think, naw, yuck!

And, of course, there are the rats and mice and slugs and insects. Oh, those roaches you hate so much, guess what? They stink like garbage, too. I suppose you end up smelling like what you hang around with.

Me:        Thanks for letting me know. I do not engage in cockroach sniffing.

Stella:    I know, Lady Human. I am so sorry for you, you and your inadequate human nose. There are so many stinks that you will never enjoy. You’ll just have to take my word for that.



Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Raccoon Crossing – Conversations with Stella

Last night, we opened the front door while waiting for UPS to show up with a very important package and were privileged to see a pretty good-sized raccoon traversing our porch. It did not slow down, look in our direction, or hesitate. But this has raised some questions in Stella’s mind.

Stella:  Why was that cat with the striped tail on our porch?

Me:      That was a raccoon.

Stella:  Okay, why was that raccoon cat on our porch and wearing a black mask? Is it a criminal? It looked like a bank robber in one of those old Picture Box shows.

Me:      No, it was not a cat and it was not a criminal. It was a raccoon and all raccoons have masks and striped tails.

Stella:  It moved like a cat, a sneaky, sneaky cat.

Me:      It was likely looking for food. It probably stops by just about every night, but we are not usually looking out the front door at that time of night so we never see it.

Stella:  That’s creepy. Let’s put a sign out telling her to stay away.

Me:      That won’t work. Raccoons don’t read signs. It probably lives down by the creek and we are part of its hunting grounds.

Stella:  Hunting? Hunting our food?

Me:      No, your food is all inside.

Stella:  What if it comes inside hunting our food? NO!!!

Me:      It can’t get inside the house.

Stella:  We need to set a guard. Snoopey is good at that sort of thing. I appoint her.

Me:      You appoint?

Stella: I am the Queen.

Me:      I am the human.

Stella:  You can’t mean in. You want raccoons to take over our house.

Me:      No, raccoons will not take over the house. I am still the human, remember. This is not a raccoon house.

Stella:  Exactly! It is a bulldog house!

Me:      Oh, Stella, I have put a lot of words in your mouth during the time I have known you. I don’t recall ever telling you that this is a bulldog house.

Stella:  Words in my mouth? You did? I don’t remember. What did they taste like? Did they taste good. May I have some more, please?

Me:      Yes, as many as you like, good old bulldog.

Stella:  So long as none of them tastes like raccoon.


Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.