When Humans Let Cats Rule – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. I am witnessing the most ridiculous scene of the last one hundred years, at least since yesterday.

Me:        One hundred years? We truly have to work on your sense of time.

Stella:    Hey, I’m not the one who changed all the clocks and then complained about it. My stomach clock is still on Stella time. Doodlebug got up an extra hour early on his own. If you noticed, I didn’t budge.

Me:        I did notice. What is so ridiculous?

Stella:    You. The way you are sitting. The way you are letting the cat rule the roost. And she isn’t even a chicken.

Me:        I’m just allowing her a little bit to wake up from her nap.

Stella:    She is taking up most of your chair, Lady Human. YOUR CHAIR! NOT HER CHAIR! YOUR CHAIR! You are sitting on the edge of YOUR CHAIR, need I repeat it.

Me:        No, you need not. She’ll get up in a minute.

20180311_182243.jpg

Stella:    This is what results from humans cutting cats too much slack. I’ve never seen so much slack in my life. Just look at her, all slacky and stretched out and slinky and catlike. Yuck.

Me:        She’ll move.

Stella:    Famous first words.

Me:        The expression is ‘Famous last words’.

Stella:    Exactly. First words become last words and the cat is still there. Give a cat an inch and she’ll take over your chair. Another human saying.

Me:        Not exactly.

Stella:    Well, it should be. When humans let cats rule, no chair is safe.

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Wait? – What Does That Even Mean? – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Humans do not mean what they say, nor do they say what they mean. It is an age-old problem. I should know. I am ages old.

Me:        What? Just how old do you think you are?

Stella:    Humans say that you are as old as you feel. Today I feel 1,456 years old.

Me:        Very interesting. So you weren’t born in this century. I thought you said that humans do not mean what we say or say what we mean. It’s beginning to sound as though you have that problem, too. I guarantee you that you are not over a thousand years old.

Stella:    Strange words coming from you, Lady Human. You have no sense of time.

Me:        I think my sense of time is…

Stella:    Who wakes the household every morning at the same time? Give or take a few of what you all call ‘minutes’.

Me:        Doodlebug.

Stella:    His stomach works like the toy you call a ‘clock’. Humans have entirely too many toys. Maybe Doodlebug swallowed one.

Me:        Nope. His digestive system operates on a schedule.

Stella:    What I need right now is to go outside and potty…

Me:        Hold on. Wait a couple of minutes until I finish this.

Stella:    A couple? What is a couple?

Me:        More like 5 minutes. Wait 5 minutes.

Stella:    Okay. One…two…three…four…five. Five minutes is up.

Me:        That was only a five count, not five minutes.

Stella:    Humans always say ‘wait’. It must be your most important, most favoritest word.

Me:        Favoritest is not a word.

Stella:    It is now. And now is now! And I have to go potty now! Not 5 minutes from now! Now!

Me:        Oh, okay then. Why didn’t you say so?

Stella:    I did. Unlike humans, I say what I mean and mean what I say as you almost found out.

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Why Do Humans Shoot Fire at the Sky? – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen Illustrious of the Olde English Bulldogges, still crown-less, but that is not my problem tonight. Tonight, the humans are once again shooting loud, bright fireballs into the sky. Lady Human, what if you blow up the sky? I would not like that.

Me:        No one would. But that won’t happen. Fireworks will not blow up the whole sky. Stop worrying.

Stella:    I am always worried when humans are involved, especially when they are shooting fire. Why do humans do these things?

Me:        There is another celebration tonight. It is the end of the western calendar year, New Year’s Eve.

Stella:    I see. What is a calendar?

Me:        It is one way that humans use to calculate time.

Stella:    So tonight, time ends.

Me:        No, the calculation switches over to a new calendar year and a new month.

Stella:    I see. No, I don’t.

Me:        Let’s just say, humans will use any excuse for a party.

Stella:    So you promise that the sky will not go away tonight.

Me:        I promise. Of course, I am only a human. I am more willing to rely on God that the sky will still be here come sunrise. I am also willing to rely on Him for the sunrise.

Stella:    And He shot the sun into the sky so He knows a whole lot more about shooting fire into the sky than any silly old humans do! Thank you, Lady Human! What a relief! Humans aren’t in charge! Happy Calendar Change!

 

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME and my sister, Snoopey – Stella’s Blog

Yay! It is my birthday. Lady Human told me so. She thought it was months ago, but Tall Man showed her a paper that says it is today! I am so excited, but I don’t know why. I didn’t even know what a birthday was until she told me. I just figured that I had always been.

Oh, and since Snoopey is my sister, it is her birthday, too. Apparently, puppy sisters are born at the same time. But that is not the important point. The important point is that it’s MY BIRTHDAY!

The humans count off a certain number of days and declare that to be a year and every year on the same day, they have a birthday. And so do bulldogs. I do not understand what time is or what they call calendars. I don’t believe bulldogs need such things. Every day is special. Every day is a new beginning. When the sun comes into the morning sky, all things start over.  Things happened before, but they are not as important as what is happening right now.

And right now, it’s MY BIRTHDAY!

Lady Human says that I am three years old. That does not sound like much. I think I have been around for at least 100 years,whatever a year is. (I still don’t understand that part.)  She says that I have been here with her for a little over one year.  That can’t be right. I don’t remember much about the days before I came here.It seems so long ago. Maybe those days were not as significant. Maybe I was too young to understand them.

But none of that matters because it’s MY BIRTHDAY!

So what else does a birthday mean?

Lady Human says that some humans put special shiny hats and collars and clothes on their dogs, but she is not going to do that to us. Good! It is too hot for extra clothes right now. She says that some humans give their dogs special cakes, but our tummies are too bulldog delicate for that.

She is giving all of us extra treats, good ones like sweet potato chips and chicken bacon jerky which are our favorites.

Why the non-birthday bulldogs are getting extra treats alongside us birthday girls, I don’t understand. Lady Human says it is a celebration and besides, she doesn’t know when Wiggles’ birthday is and she doesn’t want Wiggles to miss out. I guess that’s all right as long as I get my fair share. By fair share, I mean double what everyone else gets.

(And even Moon the Cat is getting her cat treats. Why? It’s not her birthday. This is a bulldog party. No cats! Oh, nevermind. I can be generous one day a year, whatever that is.)

So to everyone out there in the world, HAPPY MY BIRTHDAY! You can have your own treats, even cake if you like and it won’t hurt your stomachs. And you can sing happy songs, too. It doesn’t matter to me. I won’t hear you.

I will be thinking about my treats and how Lady Human sang to us because we are unique and I will be dreaming of my birthday next year, whatever year means. I hope it comes tomorrow.

Signed,

Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges (and Sister Snoopey who is not the Queen)

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

 

We Don’t Need No Clocks!

Since a very young age, my daily life has run to the movement of a clock. Time to wake up, time to go to bed, time to go to school, time to go to work, time to go to church, time to go home. Even time to watch my favorite TV shows.

In the old, old days, people had sundials and, before that, they had the sun itself along with the moon and the patterned stars that counted the time as Earth twirled in a trustworthy rhythm on its axis. I believe those may have been steadier, more peaceable days.

Honestly, clocks kind of tick me off. (Sorry for the pun.)

I lose count of how many times a day I check a clock. Am I on time? Am I running late? Where did the day go? I should know. I was there the whole time. My attention to the clock has cost me time by sucking away my focus from where I should have been looking.

Our dogs do very well without clocks, thank you. They carry timers in their stomachs. Brunch is to be served at 11 a.m. precisely, seven days a week. And we had better not be late because massive hubbub ensues if we miss it by even a couple of minutes.

Foot-stomping, loud yawns, strange bulldog vocalizations. And then – BARKING! My interpretation of the mess call goes like this: “Hey! Did y’all forget something? Food! Food! Food!”

Our dog’s internal clocks are never off. They never have to be wound nor have their batteries changed. They are organic, the way I would like for my clocks to be.

“Oh, is it time to eat? My stomach just said so.”

 “How long until sunset? Long enough to play one more round of keep away.”

 “How many minutes are left for nap time? Wait, what’s a minute?”

 I understand. Clocks are human tools. I am a human. I will continue to use our tools. Still, it’s nice every once in a while to think, “What time is it?” and answer, “I don’t care.”

“And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years.” Genesis 1:14 KJV

 

Copyright 2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.