The Olde English Bulldogge known as Stella has a bone to pick with me so we’ll begin our conversation:
Stella: Bone? Where’s a bone?
Me: There is no bone. That’s just a human expression.
Stella: Oh, as usual, humans playing jokes, trying to fool the poor old bulldogs. First dressing up as giant insects, now teasing us with non-existent bones.
Me: Let’s not get into that giant insect thing again. I had hoped that you had forgotten about that.
Stella: A giant insect does not fade from the memory.
Me: Obviously not.
Stella: I thought you had seen one and that is why you were screeching.
Me: Screeching? I haven’t screeched about anything. What are you talking about?
Stella: That horrible, high-pitched noise that was coming out of your mouth this morning. It hurt my ears so much; I wanted to cover them up.
Me: I haven’t been screeching, Stella. I don’t know what you are talking about….unless…I found an old songbook that I had when I was little and I was singing out of it.
Stella: Is a songbook one of those dead flat things that you hold on your lap and stare at and it causes you to pay no attention to us?
Me: Well, yes, that or a regular book or a cell phone or a computer…
Stella: Just because you found an old, dead songbook that you had when you were a puppy is no reason to screech in our ears over it.
Me: Did my singing bother the others, too?
Stella: Who cares? It bothered me.
Me: I am sorry. I do enjoy singing sometimes.
Stella: I enjoy chewing on a good stick sometimes, but I don’t pretend to be one of those humans who…Awwwww, you know, they take sticks and build boxes and stuff.
Me: A carpenter? A craftsman?
Stella: Yeah, those, I guess.
Me: I don’t pretend to be a singer. And as for screechy noises, how about that voice you use that is so high-pitched and ear-splitting.
Stella: You mean the Cat Chasing Song of my people.
Me: Is that what you call it? It’s a bulldog song?
Stella: It tells the bulldogs within ear range that there’s a cat afoot and it’s time to play.
Me: So why are you allowed to sing all screechy and I am not?
Stella: My song serves a purpose; yours, not so much.
Me: Maybe we should both agree to cover our ears when the other one is “singing”.
Stella: Or we can agree that you will sing silently in your head or buy a good recording of your songs. My song must be sung live and aloud. It is a treasured bulldog tradition.
Me: Is that why you keep “singing” when I ask you to stop?
Stella: You wouldn’t want to interfere with a tradition, would you?
Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.