Me: Sweetie? What’s going on?
Sweetie: Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Nothing to trouble you. Just go on about your business.
Me: If you are thinking about digging in the trash, it is most certainly my business.
Sweetie: Just patrolling to make sure you all aren’t wasting any food. But you’re okay. Everything here stinks to high heaven, and not in the good way. Not one item to tempt a bulldog or a human, and we know how loose human standards are.
Copyright 2023 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges.
Wiggles: And I am Wiggles, Destroyer of Garbage.
Me: Yeah, I know. I found the remains.
Wiggles: Isn’t it cool?
Me: No, it is not cool.
Wiggles: Waste not, want not. Isn’t that what smart humans say? I don’t know what that means, but it sounds good.
Me: When I throw something away, there is a reason and I expect it to stay thrown away.
Wiggles: And it did stay thrown away, Lady Human. It stayed thrown away in my stomach.
Stella: Why don’t I get these gourmet opportunities?
Me: Since when is garbage a gourmet opportunity?
Stella: Since it came home in a paper bag and smelled delicious. Paper bags are bulldog clues. They always carry delicious leftovers as you humans call them. What was in that bag?
Me: What I failed to eat of a sub sandwich.
Stella: Sandwich. Mmmm. Let me guess. Bread. Meat. Fragrant sauce. Why did you not offer that to me? Why was I not favored with special garbage?
Me: It’s not good for you. I can count on you not to nose through the trash. I can’t count on Wiggles. I forgot. My mistake.
Wiggles: Awww. But I disposed of the garbage for you. I am a helpful dog. Think how much less garbage would be on Earth if you just let me run through it.
Me: You may have a point. You might qualify as the environmental wonder of the world. Still…the upset stomach…
Wiggles: Oh, I forgot about that. All right. I’ll just rummage through our own trash. That will still be a big help.
Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
I am Stella, Queen of the Olde…English…Bulldogges. AAAAAGGGGHHH! Awww, what’s that awful smell?
Snoopey: It’s Lady Human. I smelled her as she passed by. AACK!
Me: Why all the barking?
Tiger: Stink! Stink! Stink!
Me: You all are the last of God’s creatures to be complaining about stink.
Stella: No, I think you hold that prize now, Lady Human. Gag. Cough. Spit. Ew, it won’t go away! You need to clear up that smell immediately.
Miss Sweetie: Yes, please. PLEASE! Ugh, my nose is burning.
Doodlebug: And you all thought MY breath smelled foul.
Wiggles: Your mouth is a rose garden compared to this. And I don’t even like roses.
Snoopey: Christmas is ruined! The stink killed it!
Me: Why are you all barking? It’s like an eruption!
Stella: Why? Are you kidding me? Take it away! Take the stink away! What is it? Will it end the world?
Me: No, it just seems like it. I harvested the chickens’ eggs. One of them exploded.
Stella: Was that the loud pop we heard?
Me: Yes. Yuck.
Stella: One rotten egg caused all this by itself?
Me: Yeah. Thank the LORD that the eggs were double bagged.
Stella: Not good enough!
Snoopey: Christmas is ruined!
Me: No, we will recover from this before Christmas. I promise. I’m disposing of the remains of the rotten egg now. Give it a few minutes.
Wiggles: Minutes? Is that like 1…2…3?
Doodlebug: 1…2…3…nope. Still stinks.
Me: Okay, the offending egg is outside.
Tiger: Not good enough.
Snoopey: Christmas is ruined! Nooooo!
Miss Sweetie: Why is Christmas ruined, Aunt Snoopey?
Snoopey: Because Christmas is supposed to smell good and now the whole world stinks.
Me: The stink will dissipate soon. There was only one rotten egg and it has been disposed of in the outside trash.
Snoopey: No! Then Christmas is ruined for the whole wide world.
Stella: Yes, but we’re okay. So, yippee!
Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, and here we are again at the Bulldog Rampage. I will be calling the action except for when I am chasing the cat. Coming out of the chute in order are…
Me: Whoah! Bulldog Rampage? Not again!
Stella: Of course, again. All right, everybody get ready. Lady Human interrupted. In order, here they come! Sweetie, Wiggles, Doodlebug, Snoopey…Snoopey…Snoopey!
Snoopey: What?
Stella: Rampage time!
Snoopey: Nope.
Stella: Why not?
Snoopey: I’m tired.
Tiger: You can leave me out, too. I refuse to rampage with Snoopey.
Stella: Didn’t you hear? Snoopey is sitting out.
Tiger: Well, in that case, I’m really sitting out. She’s not better than me.
Stella: Fine! Here they come! Sweetie, Wiggles, Doodlebug! And me! Where is that cat?
Miss Sweetie: Up on Tall Man’s chair! Now up on the couch! Run! Run! Uh-oh!
Stella: Sweetie is off to a fast start with two pieces of furniture under her belt and a great sideways floor slide. Scrambling back up on her feet, she’s made it to the trash in the kitchen!
Me: Noooo!
Stella: Meanwhile, Doodlebug got off to a slow start, but he is making up for it by head slinging drool all across the room as he runs. Not missing a beat! Great distribution! Now where’s that cat?
Me: She heard you coming. Rampaging is hard to hide.
Stella: Wiggles is bringing up the rear, but she is well into her comma dancing. Real style! She shows that a bulldog does not have to jump on furniture, dig in the trash, or sling drool to rampage.
Wiggles: Trash? There’s trash? Let me at it!
Me: Whoah again! My legs are standing here!
Miss Sweetie: Beep! Beep! I haven’t jumped on your chair yet! Woo-hoo!
Doodlebug: Awww. I’m all out of drool. Let me lick my way through.
Me: Noooo! Wet everywhere!
Stella: Not a problem, Lady Human. It will dry. Now, where’s that cat?
Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
We can all get in trouble when we put the wrong things in our mouths. Or even when we put too much of the right things in our mouths. Or when we eat grass and garbage. (The grass and garbage references are for our bulldog friends. Personally, I don’t eat grass or garbage.)
Wiggles is a trash can diver. She would love to be a dumpster diver, but being a bulldog, it is unlikely that she will ever encounter a dumpster short enough for her to dive into, and we wouldn’t let her anyway.
Now that spring has sprung, she is a grass-eater. When outside, she adds other delectables to her diet – an occasional acorn, dry bark from a fallen tree limb, a pecan if she can find one, and, last but not least, poop. Dog or cat variety, it makes no difference. She is not a connoisseur.
When she finds something that she wants to eat, she exhibits such joy that it makes me regret trying to take it away from her and “try” is the operative word. She trots off, tail wagging and ears flapping, head held high, deftly avoiding capture nine times out of ten.
As anyone who has been around English Bulldogs or Olde English Bulldogges knows, bullies’ diets have to be regulated due to their digestive issues. But regulate as we will, Wiggles goes for illicit snacks from the backyard and any wastepaper basket she finds unguarded. The result: gagging, farting, and on occasion, throwing up. Thank the LORD, no lasting harm. And sadly, no lesson learned by Wiggles. She sniffs out next target on her next trip outside and goes for it with gusto.
Humans have been gifted with the potential for self-control unlike our bulldog companions. All we have to do is exercise it and thus avoid the unappetizing consequences.
“Hast thou found honey? Eat so much as is sufficient for thee, lest thou be filled therewith, and vomit it.” Proverbs 25:16 KJV
Sound, practical advice.
©2016 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.
Bulldoggy 