Why All The Insane Barking? – Conversations with Stella

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges.

Me:        And I have a serious question.

Stella:    Permission is granted for you to ask your question, silly or serious.

Me:        Why all the insane barking?

Stella:    Sorry, Lady Human. Your question makes no sense.

Me:        Sort of like y’all’s barking this afternoon. Every time I turned around…

Stella:    And you turn around quite a lot.

Me:        Barking, barking, barking. And there was no reason for it.

Stella:    Says who?

Me:        I could not see one thing going on that would provoke so much noise.

Stella:    Ah, there. You said it. You could not see, but could you smell it?

Me:        Smell what?

Stella:    Exactly.

Me:        Exactly? What?

Stella:    How can I explain what you cannot smell? Bulldog barking is never insane. Bulldogs are reasonable creatures.

Me:        Reasonable creatures? Hmmm.

Stella:    Don’t worry, Lady Human. We don’t bark like that every day. You know that. Maybe tomorrow will smell less interesting.

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

Stinky Hands – Conversations with Stella

Posted on by H.J. Hill

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Humans stink. They say that dogs do. They say our paws smell like corn chips, whatever those are. Corn chips. Mmmmm, they sound delicious. But back to my point – humans stink. I had to pull back my nose from Lady Human’s hands because they smelled so awful.

Me:        I saw that and I don’t know what your problem is.

Stella:    Millions of scent receptors, remember.

Me:        My hands don’t smell.

Stella:    Millions of scent receptors cannot be wrong.

Me:        What do I smell like?

Stella:    Where do I begin? You smell like whatever you ate last, the last three dogs you petted, that soap you wash your dishes with, that soap you wash your clothes with, everything you walked through for the past few days, raccoons, skunks, chickens, squirrels – yuck, grass, dirt, poop…

Me:        Okay, thank you. I get the picture. But I washed my hands and you still wrinkled up your nose.

Stella:    I am a bulldog. My nose is always wrinkled.

Me:        You pulled your head back and said, “Pffft”.

Stella:    I have the right of free speech. The right to comment on what assaults my senses. Pffft was the best description I could think of.

Me:        What does Pffft mean?

Stella:    Think of the worst smelling thing ever, a scent that humans hate. It sneaks into your nose and suddenly, ATTACKS! What would you say? PFFFT, of course! The perfect word for bad smells. It blows the scent out of your mouth and nose and says, Stay away, you nasty smell! Go back to the place you came from! Which in this case was your stinky hands.

Me:        Pffft. Okay. I’ll have to remember that. I’ll have to remember that every day.

 

 

Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Scent-seeing: Conversations with Stella

Posted on by H.J. Hill

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.