Shellbee's Story

by Jennifer Flynn-Campbell

  For my next Halloween parade, Mommy got a great idea: Shellbee is going to be a lobster! Well, those things are strange. I have encountered them on the kitchen floor, flopping around. “What dat?” Mommy and Pappy would ask me. God only knows, I thought. They’re creatures from another planet. All my attempts to sniff them were in vain, as I would get poked by something sharp sticking out of them. But Mommy’s grand idea didn’t end there. She decided that she and Pappy would dress up as lobsters, too. Pappy bellowed “NO;” Mommy said it would be fun. Guess who won??? I was donned in my lobster costume, looking strange and acting like a nut. Mommy and Pappy put on red, one-piece long johns and wore lobster claw hats. Obviously, Pappy didn’t do this willingly. We pranced in the parade together but didn’t win a prize, which is so unfair. We should have won just for Pappy toughing his way through such an embarrassment! And of all the things to happen, professional friends of Mommy and Pappy’s—the Sullivans—drove by and saw us. They yelled from their car, “You need to get a life!” Oh, what a life we have—no end to the fun!

  Now, because I am a voluptuous girl, my costume for the next Halloween was a challenge: me as Dino with Mommy and Pappy as Wilma and Fred Flintstone. Mommy couldn’t find my size, so she bought two and took them to the tailor. It all worked out great. We marched around town so, so proud. But again, no prize.

  This lack of a prize became a serious situation for the family—what to do next year! We got our idea at Christmas when we all got penguin pj’s as gifts. We decided to be the penguin people!! Mommy bought all the necessary accoutrements through that big box everyone looks at all day long at work. She got us penguin hats, slippers, and scarves. We were a sight to behold—creative and original costumes. Guess what?? We won, and I proudly sniffed my prize of dog goodies.

  I also love Halloween because so many children come to our house to trick-or-treat. I put on my costume, answer the door, and push my wiggling self into the pack of children. I get lots of attention and pats on the head for getting into the holiday spirit.

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  Letter 9

  Settling Arguments

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee. My Mommy and Pappy don’t argue a lot. Pappy says we live “harmoniously.” So this is a short letter of the two times I saw them get snappy with one another.

  The first argument was driven by hunger—easy enough to understand. When my belly is empty, I get to barking persistently until I am fed. We were on a road trip, without food on board. Not a restaurant or food store to be found. Plenty of churches of all types, but God wasn’t sending manna from the sky. Mommy and Pappy got to growling at one another—but really the growling was coming from their bellies. I didn’t like their tone of voice and the feeling it gave me. At first I was scared, which gave way to me deciding to tell them to be nice. After all, they’re always telling me to “Be a good girl, Shellbee,” as if I needed to be reminded. I put up with their reminders only because humans tend to say unnecessary things a lot. Well, I let out a big howl, and that startled them into silence; then I barked to back up my message. Mommy and Pappy realized I was upset (they know I’m the sensitive type), so they apologized and told me not to worry. Soon we found a roadside store with snacks for all of us. We had full bellies and peace again.

  Then there was the time that they argued about Easter dinner. Mommy just wasn’t interested in Pappy’s big gourmet festive foods. One night they lay in bed debating, and Mommy started to get snappy. I had heard enough of this argument and set out to make the decision for them. Now, in every room of our home, I have baskets full of toys. Usually the holiday toys are put away until next year, unless I am overly attached to one of them. I scanned my memory of all the many baskets, trying to visualize a suitable toy. Ahhh, I needed to find the purple Easter dog! I remembered it was at the bottom of the deep basket in our bedroom, untouched since last year. I went over to the basket and started furiously tossing out toys until I found my Easter dog; then I hopped onto the bed like a bunny and presented it to Mommy and Pappy in my trap. The joy on their faces, their gushing words of my brilliance! I am one smart cookie for sure. Mommy said, “Okay, Shellbee, you get a fancy Easter dinner.” We had osso buco. I always get to eat the marrow—no bones for me. I’ve had bones a couple of times, but it makes my parents nervous to hear the cracking sounds. That’s fine by me because the marrow is considered a delicacy, and I am all about fine dining.

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  Letter 10

  Birthday Parties

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee. As you can see from the picture on my book cover, birthday parties are a big deal around here. All but one of my birthday parties have been spent in our camper at Cupsogue Beach. I’m always decked out in party hats and beads. Why wear one party hat when you can wear three?! I get lots of presents from my party guests, too, because my birthday is all about me. Over the years, my birthday celebration has expanded in many different ways—more people, more dogs, more campers. All there for me—a furry, black, wet, sandy girl.

  Mommy and I always go swimming on my birthday—everyone else is either holding down beach chairs or only daring to wade in up to their ankles (Mommy and I call them “ankle dwellers”). For the record, I don’t willingly go swimming on my birthday. I look back anxiously the whole time, waiting for the food to be served and littermates to arrive. I even use Mommy as a floating raft. I’ve perfected my body placement to such an extent it’s nearly an art form. When I’ve had enough of floating along in the currents, I bring our swim to an end. How? Easy! I place my big paws on Mommy’s shoulders, she sinks, and I swim to shore. My actions aren’t without consequences, though. Mommy is always hot on my tail, chasing me down the beach. I dart around like Muhammad Ali; I even run backwards, and Mommy starts laughing so hard she can’t keep going. We love one another endlessly, and each moment we spend together freezes like a picture in my mind. I see life in pictures, and I replay the screen shots in my dreams—that is, when my family lets me sleep!

  My birthday parties include many humans I want to woof about to you. You probably don’t know my guests, just as I don’t know all the loving people you have in your life. I wish I could know everyone who reads my story and nuzzle them with lots of licks. But it’s okay that I can’t because I, Shellbee Ann Campbell, know we are all connected through the unseen cosmic threads of the universe, which, by the way, are held together with powerful dog jaws.

  Now I may wander a bit telling my story because my mind gets caught up in the reunion with my guests. Once I get going, I am flooded with declarative memories of facts and feelings about each individual—human or dog. Dogs do have declarative memories—that’s why we remember people and places from long ago, and that’s why we can find our way home over long distances. I may wander in my story about my birthday guests, but fear not, I won’t ever wander away from my party!

  The usual littermates who come are dear friends of my family, and they love me a lot. I know most of them from Mommy and Pappy’s work, which they love to turn into playtime. Let’s start with Alice. Alice used to work with Pappy (until Pappy retired) and she is like one of those cuddly, fluffy Papillon dogs you can hold on your lap all day. She loves me so much that she always brings me a birthday present and envelops me in hugs. Her daughter, Jillian, moves with the grace of a Greyhound; she once came to my party with some friends and a small, fierce dog—he wasn’t a fan of the beach scene. Alice and I share a long tradition: when I visit Pappy’s old workplace, she feeds me some food from her plate (and she feeds me at my birthday parties, too). Ginny comes from Pappy’s work as well, and she loves to shop! “Shop ‘til you drop” is her motto, which works out great for me because her gift bag is always full of toys or fancy boutique dog bones. Ginny is a monster athlete and has the stamina of a Belgian Malinois—golf is her game. I love sticks and balls, too! Tom, another coworker of Pappy’s, is a smart street mutt. He’s so smart he even has Pappy’s old job. Tom i
s the brainy type and loves to laugh. All these littermates of Pappy’s were with him on his worst day ever. Of course, it was the worst day ever because of me, Shellbee Ann Campbell!

  One day I went to work with Pappy in a great big building that was divided up into many caves. I love these caves because I get to vacuum up all of the crumbs lying around from people’s snacks and lunches. Well, when we got to the big building, Pappy was busy getting ready for a day’s work—that is, until he realized that I had disappeared! Pappy was in a panic, looking everywhere, making sure all the doors to outside were still locked. Pappy says it was the “two worst feelings ever”: one, Shellbee is lost, and two, he has to tell Mommy. I am sure both feelings were equally bad—losing me would break his heart, and telling Mommy scared him to death. I could hear Pappy calling me, pleading, offering cookies, as he ran in and out of the many caves. But I didn’t let out one woof as I lay tangled in a trap of wires. I am known for my dramatic flair! Pappy finally walked into the TV recording room, a place where humans get to flap their traps about all the stuff they know. Even though Pappy is hard of hearing, he didn’t miss the wap wap wap of my tail. He found me under a desk. I had knocked down something with a wire, and it had dropped over me. You may wonder why I didn’t yelp, whine, or howl. Well, I don’t know why, either. I guess getting trapped underneath something made me think it was time to be quiet and not move. A now-happy Pappy helped me out of my predicament and gave me hugs and a treat. Mommy was instantly called, a full report was made, and happiness vibrated everywhere!

  Mommy understood Pappy’s abject terror, as I had done the same to her once, only I had gotten stuck under our big, outdoor cooking box while cleaning up the drippings! There I was, paralyzed under the big, hot box when Mommy found me. What do you think she did!? Nooo, not rescue me! First she took a picture with that annoying small thing she flaps her yap in for work! Again, I don’t know why I didn’t just stand up and step out! It’s one of life’s mysteries, I guess.

  Mommy shared the picture of me stuck under the hot box with another dog lover, Chaz. Chaz chastised Mommy for taking a picture instead of rescuing me. Chaz loves me. The first time I met him, I was sitting on Mommy’s lap in his big office. Chaz asked me, “Are you a baby or a dog?” I was embarrassed by the question and buried my head in Mommy’s neck. “She couldn’t be cuter or smarter,” Chaz said. If I could talk, I would have said, “You got that right, Buster!” “Buster” would be his name if he were a dog—a Boxer for sure.

  I am combining all my littermates and parties into one letter because these yearly celebrations are combined into one big picture in my mind. It’s not that the events are blurry for me, it’s simply that I am an existentialist by nature. I am a free and responsible dog who has determined my own development through acts of free will. Each and every moment of my lifetime is carried with me as part of the whole, big picture of who I am. As such, everyone I know or know about is part of me, just as I am part of them. Got that?

  Now, on to more partying littermates.

  Some beach-dwelling friends of mine come every year—their dogs, too. Auntie Linda and Auntie Donna love a rest from the box they work in front of daily. No boxes at the beachfront camper—just drinks and food, water and chairs, and me, all decked out for fun. Auntie Linda reminds me of an American Water Spaniel: she is friendly, energetic, protective, and easy for me to manipulate! Auntie Donna is like a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog; she can herd me or anyone into the proper place!

  Mike and Karen, more beach dwellers, are always at my party, too. I love hanging out with them at night. They’re fire people. They love the glow of the blazing fires as we all laugh well into the night, with our bellies full of birthday treats. Mike reminds me of a tough Pit Bull because of the way he walks and carries his body. The truth is, Pit Bulls and Mike are really very intuitive, mushy types who hide their sensitivity behind their fierce exterior. Mike’s wife, Karen, reminds me of an English Springer Spaniel: perky, smart, and quick to yap if necessary.

  And I’d never forget to mention Sally and Bob. I love Sally in a way I can’t even describe. When I see her, I let out a high-pitched whine as if she were my long-lost love returning from a voyage. I see her a lot, but the same feeling wells up inside me each time. Only Sally gets this greeting from me. Something about her feels so special to me. We go way back to puppyhood with my illnesses and my leaps into her pool. To me, Sally is like a Bernese Mountain Dog. She would ford any river or climb any mountain to bring someone to safety. Mommy says we’re like two old souls who must have known one another, joining up for another round of life on earth. Bob, Sally’s husband, is more like a Giant Schnauzer—he even has a mustache and keeps our town safe from fires!

  George and Karen are another couple who come to my party every year; one time they even brought their chocolate Lab, Kava. Kava is a buddy of mine—I like to swim at his pool. Funny thing, though, Kava doesn’t swim, but he sure can bark a lot. If for one second I leave my ball unattended, he swipes it and hides it in his house. Even though we bring Kava his own ball, he always wants mine!! Kava can also be a scaredy-cat about pretty much everything, but when it comes to protecting someone he loves, he overcomes all his fears and does his job. There’s also a sad part about Kava. It’s important to know because it shows how complex a dog’s psyche is. When his mommy and pappy go away—which they often do (they like the gypsy lifestyle)—Kava stays with Nurse Carol and Mr. Eddie. I never met Mr. Eddie, but Kava told me about him during one of our yapping sessions. Sadly, Mr. Eddie became very ill, very suddenly. The story goes that Kava never left Mr. Eddie’s side, which required Kava to walk on wood floors, one of his many fears. In a dog psyche, love conquers all. People say human love does, too, but it’s more difficult for people to suspend fear. So Kava stayed close to Mr. Eddie as Mr. Eddie transitioned to the place of endless time, where he became a part of everything. Then Kava stayed with Nurse Carol to give her comfort and keep her home safe. Nurse Carol is a lovebug, one of the greatest caregivers of all time, and certainly a Border Collie—alert, energetic, and tenacious! Nurse Carol always welcomes me at another office I frequent often as she knows I’m a V.I.P. (Very Important Puppy).

  George and Karen are as generous as Kava. They put in a saltwater pool just for Shellbee Ann Campbell! George is like a Bloodhound—extremely affectionate yet somewhat shy, though not ever fooled. He can track down anything in the human psyche that needs fixing. Karen is a Shar Pei: she appears serious and somber but in fact is lively, very cheerful, and prone to outbursts of laughter.

  Joy is another one of my party guests, and she comes with J.D., her Golden Retriever. J.D. is a very pretty boy whose story you will hear about later. Though I am polite to my guests, I never let J.D. go ahead of me into the camper—it’s my day, after all. I give him a stern bark, and he promptly yields the way. Mommy corrects me for my stern bark, but guess what? Joy corrects Mommy! Joy understands it is Shellbee Ann Campbell’s Birthday—Number One and Princess for the Day! Ha! I’ve found another human who sees the world my way! Joy reminds me of an American Cocker Spaniel: playful, inquisitive, and friendly—but beware, she’s also ferociously loyal. A good snap or bite isn’t without possibility.

  And then there’s Cathy; she’s Mommy and Pappy’s physical trainer. Cathy has a family of all females. What a giggling, fun-filled litter of women. Mommy always sneaks Cathy’s mom some wine—a big no-no according to the guard dog Cathy. Mommy is a lot like me: if there is a rule that seems silly, she just ignores it. If Cathy were a dog, she’d be very close to my canine origins; she’d be a Flat-Coated Retriever, well-muscled for freedom of movement and with a perfect stride. Even though Cathy is outgoing, devoted, and optimistic, Mommy and Pappy refer to her as a BEAST!! This description is commonly yelped by them after their workout when, much to my delight, the stairs into our home become as challenging for them as they are for me. I am grateful that Cathy pushes Mommy and Pappy. It keeps them strong enough to pick me up when necessary. Cathy’s siste
rs might have some Beagle in their mix because they love to bark and howl, making their family of littermates quite noisy. Cathy’s mom is much less noisy and beast-like than the rest of them; she’s more like a quiet, gentle Havanese who enjoys watching her litter’s loud play sessions.

  Brother Jimmy is such a big part of my world—everyone’s world! On my birthday, he is always ready to help us plan the festivities and take us hiking and swimming. He’d be one of the most popular dogs ever—a Golden Retriever. He, if necessary, could make any predator back off; however, my brother Jimmy is so sharp that he’d outsmart any danger before resorting to a show of physicality. I could go on forever about my brother Jimmy.

  My sister-in-law, Jen, is married to brother Jimmy, so she has become a big part of my world, too. You’ll later read of my prominent presence at their wedding. Brother Jimmy and Jen have Trixie, a Boston Terrier, who you will come to know later. Jen doesn’t look like a Boston Terrier, but she is as friendly as one, as well as lively and highly intelligent. One big difference between Jen and a Boston Terrier is Jen needs a lot of grooming due to her long, curly coat. Personally, I think she looks like a small Irish Water Spaniel. They don’t normally come in small sizes, so I’m guessing she was the runt of the litter. Sister-in-law Jen may be a runt, but she is also beautiful and strong with a daring, passionate temperament. Both Jen and Trixie can be clever and naughty, with not a care for the consequences.