Wash Your Own Face! – Conversations with Stella and Miss Sweetie

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Nope. Nope.

Me:        Oh, come on, girl. It won’t take but a few seconds.

Stella:    Nope. My face belongs to me.

Me:        Does the dirt in your folds and in your nose rope belong to you, too?

Stella:    If you want to wash a face, wash your own.

Me:        I do. Nobody else offers and I can’t wait around.

Stella:    Hands away! Hands away!

Me:        No, Stella, it’s face washing time.

Stella:    I’ll show you! I’ll scrunch my face up.

Me:        I am patient. You can’t hold that scrunch for long.

Stella:    Hey, I am a bulldog. I can scrunch my face forever. How about washing Sweetie’s face? She’s silly. She’ll let you.

Miss Sweetie:    Sure, Lady Human!  Here is my face. Wipe away.


Me:        I will in a little bit, Sweetie. We have to catch Stella while we can.

Stella:    I don’t understand you, Sweetie. Allowing face washing without a struggle. Pffft! Your attitude is most un-bulldoggy.





Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.





Love Taps – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. One of my favorite things is when Lady Human and I spend quiet time alone. She pets me and scratches my itchy spots and massages my shoulders and scratches my back and rubs my ears and… hey, why are you stopping?

Me:        Places to go. People to see.

Stella:    What places? Where? What people? Who?

Me:        I have stuff I’ve got to do. We can meet again later.

Stella:    1…2…3…okay, later is now.

Me:        I know, Stella. I enjoy quiet time, too. But who is going to grocery shop and clean y’all’s bowls and wash the clothes…

Stella:    I don’t wear clothes. Let them wash themselves. Pet me. Scratch me.

Me:        Stella, let me have my hand.

Stella:    Pet me. Scratch me.

Me:        Stella, let my arm go.

Stella:    Never. Pet me. Scratch me. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Me:        You have no idea how heavy your paws are.

Stella:    Yes, I do. Tap. Tap. Tap. Stay here. Pet me. Scratch me. LOVE ME!

Me:        Isn’t cleaning your bowls love?

Stella:    Maybe, but it doesn’t feel as good.




Copyright 2018 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.





Get the Dog Smell Out – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges. Lady Human is washing big pieces of cloth in her big, noisy machine. It is annoying. I wish it would stop. Dare I ask?

Me:        Nope.

Stella:   Please.

Me:        Nope. Has to be done.

Stella:    But why? It just goes on and on and on and on…

Me:        I have to wash all this stuff to get the dog smell out.

Stella:    Dog smell? Like what I smell or what I smell like?

Me:        What you all smell like.

Stella:    Are you saying that I stink? Are you saying that you don’t like the way I smell? Awwww. My smell is me. If you don’t like my smell, you don’t like me. Awwwww.

Me:        Not the same.

Stella:    Yes, the same. How can I separate me from what I smell like?

Me:        I could give you a few more baths.

Stella:    Some other way.

Me:        I can do what I’m doing right now. Wash everything. Now that you and Snoopey are both sleeping in my room, I have to wash your bedding…and mine pretty often. When I walk into my room, I want it smell more like me than like you.

Stella:    Wrong choice.





Copyright  2017 H. J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Infernal Machines – Conversations with Stella

I, Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, hereby decree an end to the humans’ infernal machines.

Me:        What?

Stella:    There is a machine that is worse than all the others. A wicked device that groans and rocks and jumps and clunks. Here we are, innocent bulldogs, on a quiet afternoon, napping, chewing, snoring, dreaming. And then, all of a sudden, BANG, CLUNK, CLANG, BUMP, BUMP, BUMP, SLOSH…

Me:        Oh, that? The washing machine got out of balance.

Stella:    The washing machine gets ‘out of balance’ a lot. Out of balance. Is that even a thing?

Me:        Yes, especially with this washing machine and all the bulldog laundry it must process.

Stella:    Blame it on the bulldogs, yes. Whatever goes wrong is all our doing. The washing machine, as you call it, is a human invention, is it not?

Me:        Yes, but…

Stella:    And the washing machine, as you call it, washes human clothes, does it not?

Me:        Yes, but…

Stella:    So how is it that we bulldogs are to blame for its loud clunkiness?  Infernal human machines!

Me:        Your blankets and beds are so heavy and bulky that they throw the balance off during the spin cycle…

Stella:    Spin cycle. Blah. Blah. Blah. Is that even real? Why is an evil machine interrupting our afternoon nap?

Me:        Well, I suppose we could just let all your bedding stay dirty and stinky. Or we could hose it off outside. It wouldn’t smell very good, but…

Stella:    I do like that lavender scent. I do like it when my bedding is all fluffy and soft.

Me:        That would pretty much go away if we stop using the machine for your stuff. Of course, we humans would still enjoy its benefits. It hardly ever goes off balance when it’s washing human clothes. But whatever you want…

Stella:    Why is life so full of difficult choices? Why can’t I have my fluffy clean bedding AND my uninterrupted naps? Fine. Whatever. Go ahead with your washing machine, Lady Human. But I reserve the right to call it what it really is – INFERNAL MACHINE!

Me:        Thank you for not cussing.

Stella:    What is cussing?

Me:         Never mind. Forget that I mentioned it. No one needs a cussing bulldog.



Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.

Washing Day – Stella’s Stuff – Conversations with Stella

I am Stella, Queen of the Olde English Bulldogges, and I have terrible news. I have been robbed! I don’t know if a bulldog did it or a human did it. The crime may have been committed by giant insects or the Giant Floating Enemy Balloon that came to live with us last week. All I know is that I went outside briefly, just to pee, and when I came back in, all of my bedding and toys were GONE! Snatched clean out of my crate…

Me:        Stella.

Stella:    Mwaah! Ohhh! the bulldogginess of it!

Me:        Stella.

Stella:    Why me? I’m a good dog! Why did this happen? I know! I won’t ever go outside to pee again. I will pee right here and guard my crate!

Me:        Stella!

Stella:    Wait, Lady Human. I am not finished. As queen, I will conduct a thorough investigation and find the culprit who made off with my things.

Me:        Look no further. I did it.

Stella:    What! NOOO! Why? Why? Why?

Me:        Because…

Stella:    Why? Why? Why? Can no one be trusted? Oh, the horror…

Me:        Stella, it’s all still here! It’s all in the wash. When it comes out of the washer, I’ll put it in the dryer and then back in your crate – bed, blanket, stuffie toys and all.

Stella:    But why me?

Me:        Honey, of all the bulldogges, your crate was the only spot in this whole room that smelled like…well, dog.

Stella:    That’s because I’m a dog!

Me:        So are they!

Stella:    The smell wasn’t bothering me and your nose isn’t nearly as good as mine. Why were you opposed to me smelling bulldoggy? Which I am. Bulldog me!

Me:        You will have all your stuff back before long. A couple of hours at the most.

Stella:    Show me. I want to visit my stuff. I want all the stuffies and my bed to know that they are still loved and I am here for them.

Me:        Hard to do when they are swirling around in the washer.

Stella:    Swirling?

Me:        No, never mind. They are swimming and having a good time.

Stella:    Well, all right. I can’t deny them the pleasure of swimming. But the next time I go out to pee, I am taking my crate with me.

Me:        Nope.

Stella:    Well, I am taking my stuffies and my bedding with me.

Me:        Nope.

Stella:    Well, just the stuffies.

Me:        Nope.

Stella:    Okay then. But I want you to put an alarm on my crate.

Me:        Nope.

Stella:    Why ever not?

Me:        To guard what? The stink?

Stella:    We have already discussed that issue, Lady Human. We will just have to agree to disagree on the definition of ‘stink’.

Me:        Nope. My definition wins.

Stella:    Humans are so picky.




Copyright 2017 H.J. Hill All Rights Reserved.