Shellbee's Story

by Jennifer Flynn-Campbell

  I wish I could tell you about every single human and dog who has come to my birthday parties over the years. They’ve all given me a very warm, special feeling in my mind, heart, and belly. I have noticed humans don’t spend enough time celebrating their lives, which really should occur on a daily basis. Perhaps that is why we dogs greet our littermates with so much enthusiasm, wiggling and wagging our tails. We’re gently reminding them that the simple act of being together is something worthy of celebration!

  Happy birthday to you,

  Happy birthday to you,

  Happy birthday, dear Shellbee,

  Happy birthday to you!

  And to everyone else from me:

  Happy birthday to you,

  Happy birthday to you,

  Happy birthday, dear You,

  Happy birthday to you!

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  Letter 11

  Christmas

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee. I love love love Christmas! Mommy and Pappy even bring a tree into the house! Not one I can pull sticks off of. Nooo, this one has lights and special things that hang all over it. Under the tree, there are secret prizes wrapped in paper that I love to sniff. I, Shellbee Ann Campbell, have to wait to rip them open with my trap until Christmas day. As you know, I understand the complexities of human rituals, but this particular human ritual is a funny one. Pappy walks high up on a ladder and disappears into a dark hole inside the house. Then Mommy takes big boxes from him and tries not to trip on me as she puts them all over the place. My job is to bark my brains out. It’s especially funny to watch Mommy put these boxes all over the place because every day she insists on me putting my toys away. “Shellbee, this place is a mess, a minefield; let’s clean this up!” I do help—Mommy puts a toy in a basket while I pick one up and give it a good shaking until it flies from my trap. Sometimes I hit a target, like Mommy, Pappy, or a big glass of water, which makes us all laugh.

  Christmas is a big deal with all the human littermates I know. They run about doing lots of extra-special errands, so I join in too. Shopping is the best—big bags filled with delicious treats or secret presents from Santa. I have met Santa on several occasions for photo ops. The first time I saw him I was creeped out: a big, fluffy, hairy-faced human yelping, “Ho Ho Ho!” Mommy and Pappy wanted me to willingly go sit by him, but I put on the brakes. This picture must have been very important to my dopey parents because they tugged me on over to him anyway. The man standing behind the crazy box that takes pictures did silly things, hopping up and down, squeaking toys, calling my name. No way was I going to look up. I kept my eyes riveted to the floor, hoping this torture would be over soon. The other people laughed at me—an insult I didn’t take lightly. Mommy felt my fear and told me how happy she was with the picture. “Shellbee Girl, good job!” “Good job” was my cue to trot on out of there and not look back.

  The next Christmas I was ready to face the big, fluffy, furry-faced Santa man. I marched over, sat down, took one quick look at him, and faced the crazy-box man. “Perfect shot,” everyone said. Did you know dogs pray? I said, “Dear God, steady my feet, and make this end quickly.” God is good. He let me skate out of there at high speed with Pappy at my side. Mommy stayed behind to get frames for the pictures and woof over my beauty. Even though I don’t like Santa, I love the store where these Santa pictures are taken—FETCH in Port Jefferson. They are the ones who host the Halloween parade I walk in every year.

  So with lots of things to do for the holiday, I help a lot—mostly by keeping everyone at home on a proper routine. When there is so much to do, these loving parents of mine sometimes forget to feed me dinner. Imagine that! And during these extra-special times, Mommy and Pappy sneak around and hide a lot, and I, Shellbee Ann Campbell, am told to stay out of the room! This makes me howl. The nerve of them to slam the door on our relationship! They say, “Shellbee, go to your spot,” and “no peeking.” Then the threats come: “If you peek, Santa won’t come to our house.” Who wants that crazy, scary-looking man anywhere near our house? Usually Mommy and Pappy are taking treats out of bags and wrapping wads of paper around secret prizes. I do love secret prizes! And I especially like ripping off the paper that’s wrapped up tight around them. The sticky stuff on the paper gets caught on my tongue, lips, and nose, so I have to paw it off my face. This always makes Mommy and Pappy laugh, but they don’t laugh for long: one look from me with my helpless brown eyes, and they spring into action to remove the sticky stuff. Do you have any idea how many dog hairs I’ve lost to sticky stuff??

  Even with Mommy and Pappy’s threats, I have to admit, I still try to peek at them when they’re wrapping up my presents. Problem is, in order to see what’s going on, I have to stick my long nose too far around the corner. “Shellbee, no peeking—Santa won’t come.” I back up, go to my spot, and let out a big, grumbly, snorty harrumph. There. Now they know how I feel. But it all works out in the end when Christmas day finally comes—patience is a virtue. I have no sounds to describe all the fun I have opening up my presents.

  I have a special dress to wear on Christmas, too. It’s custom-made with red velvet and lace and fluffy, white fur trim. Mommy and Pappy had it made for a fancy Christmas Eve party at a mansion. Michael owns the mansion, and he hosted the party just so I could debut my beautiful gown. Michael is a real dog person. I think he’s a purebred Whippet: lean, fit, and stubborn. I love stubborn people because they remind me of how important it is to be confidently set in your ways. I loved Michael’s party. I was the belle of the ball, and I showed his spiral staircase who’s boss (even though I was in a dress!). I was so exhausted from the festivities that I slept in late the next morning.

  Did I mention how much I love Michael? I know I did, but I need to tell you that, in the summer, he has a special swimming pool just for me; it has wide steps on each end so it’s easy for me to climb in and out. But I never get out for long. Once out, I fly back into the water again. Michael’s amazed by my stamina with our endless games of catch in the pool. I expect him (and anyone else nearby) to throw me my softball for hours while I relax on my float. If they hesitate or get distracted, I give them a bark, which always gets their attention. Not having been around water dogs a lot, Michael once wondered out loud if I ever tired of swimming or playing catch. Mommy and Pappy yelped, “NEVER.” Michael smiled and gave me a wink.

  Above all, Christmas is about spending time with family—my favorite thing in the world. I don’t like it when one of my littermates is missing, but I never have to worry about that at the holidays. Every Christmas we all wear matching PJs, new ones every year. Whenever I’m not feeling so good, Mommy puts one on me, wraps me in a blanket, and holds me close.

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  Letter 12

  Brother Jimmy and Jen Get Married

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee. I’ve known Jen and Trixie for a while now. Jen came along first—I met her at one of my beach birthday parties. Pretty little lady with a long, curly coat (but the coat is only on her head). I was the first resident dog at their house in Montauk until Trixie arrived. Perhaps it’s time to tell you Trixie’s story, since her arrival was as exciting to brother Jimmy and Jen as the night before their wedding.

  Jen loves my brother Jimmy a lot, and he loves her a lot, so they wanted to add a puppy to their family. They started looking on rescue sites, using that big, square contraption everyone is so fixated on. (I get fixated on squirrels in the yard.) Well, brother Jimmy’s little box rang, and he was yapping with Jen, who was at home in New York City. Much to his surprise, he was about to become a daddy to a Boston Terrier. In a mad dash, brother Jimmy went to New York City to pick up Jen and drive to New Jersey to sleep in a flea-infested hotel (I hate fleas—never, ever had one!). The story brother Jimmy and Jen told is scary, exciting, fun, and sad all at the same time. At 5:00 AM the next morning, a big truck pulled up; the back of the truck was filled with crates and crates of dogs. It was a
long ride for those dogs, rattling around in the back of a noisy truck. Trixie had to be real scared. She started out in Georgia; then she was moved to a farm in Tennessee, then she ended up with her new mommy and daddy in New York City. I’ve never liked our trips to New York City—no place to pee and poop, plus it’s way too noisy for a country girl like me!

  It is very important to credit the Ohio man who has logged one million miles to save the lives of 55,000 dogs in the south, Greg Mahle. Mr. Mahle brought Trixie to our family in his semi truck called Rescue Road Trips. If I could give people a command, it would be to look him up on that crazy box you spend so much time in front of.

  Eventually, Trixie and I met. It didn’t go so smoothly at first. Trixie is an up-in-your-face, play-with-me girl. I, Shellbee Ann Campbell, had been the only dog in the family for a long time. It was a lot to adjust to. We did it, though! I let her know I was her senior, we negotiated space, and we became pals. Little Trixie can be very brazen, which makes me laugh—and I laugh even more if she gets corrected for her behavior. I’ve graduated from school and am well beyond needing correction. Ha, ha. Trixie has to go to school now, and she has to deal with new parents fretting over her behavior. It really is working out well for me because I look like the best dog ever. Truth be told, I sometimes get Trixie going on some wild rant or encourage her to turn the house into a racetrack, and then she’s the one who gets in trouble.

  Trixie and I go on walks together, and I admire her audacity when she comes across another dog. Trixie is small, but she thinks nothing of going bananas, barking, pulling wildly on her leash. I am her backup; I give a low growl and then a ferocious bark. We are a force to be reckoned with. If you were to hold both of our leashes, you’d have to cross your arms and anchor your feet to keep is in check!

  Now, back to brother Jimmy and Jen’s wedding. Mommy, Pappy, and I stayed at our favorite place in Montauk, the Montauk Manor. I usually have a blast at this place, but we were hardly there long enough to enjoy it. Weddings are a lot of work, especially this one since it was at brother Jimmy and Jen’s house. Mommy and Pappy kept saying, “Shellbee, stay, be a good girl,” and then they’d disappear, leaving me and Trixie in the yard. Cars came, cars left, cars came back, lots of stuff to carry, clean. Normally, I love to swim—but hoses usually mean baths. I hate baths. They wash away smells I’ve so carefully rolled in. The wedding helpers were hosing down everything in sight—yikes! “Dear Lord, please don’t let them turn the hose on me!” The days leading up to the wedding were very confusing, but I knew this event was so special that I’d better be good.

  The night before the wedding, Jen’s sister-in-law, Janet, prepared a special dinner. You really can’t be in the kitchen with Janet because she moves very fast, and you’ll get stepped on. I was hanging outside with Mommy, Pappy, Auntie Marie, and Uncle Mike when I heard a blood-curdling scream come from the house. Everyone jumped, even me! We all ran inside to see what had happened. Much to my surprise, Trixie and Taylor, another visiting dog, had jumped onto the table and eaten three pounds of prosciutto. I’ve personally never jumped onto anything to steal food, nor have I ever heard of such a crime. This was called the worst crime ever, and Janet was hopping mad. No worries, I thought, you can always buy more—which is exactly what happened. After that incident, guards were placed at the table and Trixie’s very worried parents watched her like hawks to make sure she didn’t get sick. Humans are so silly! If a dog eats prosciutto from an Italian specialty shop, she won’t get sick. Dogs dream about something like that happening to them. I’m only mad those two dog thieves didn’t share any with me!

  The big wedding day finally came. The backyard had been transformed with tents, cooking stations, music, and watering holes. I was all dressed up in a beautiful Montauk Daisy necklace. I knew this was a very important event, so I sat quietly with Mommy to get ready to walk. Pappy had Trixie dressed in a pink coat. There were lots of guests (I knew many of them) to watch us show off our prance. Mommy and I glided across the lawn to our chairs, but for some reason, everyone was laughing. Turns out, Pappy didn’t know that Trixie was trying to squat and pee, so she got dragged! Dogman dragged me in school, so there—what goes around comes around!

  The ceremony was great. I woofed quietly and nudged Mommy. Brother Jimmy looked so happy, with a big grin on his face. Uncle Ralph (a Judge) was standing in front, too, and wearing a black dress—weird, but he had a lot to say, so I guess the dress was important. Jen was the picture of beauty in a very fancy, light cream-colored dress. I knew their wedding was not the day to jump on anyone.

  After the ceremony, there was lots of kissing and hugging, and then all the dogs got put into a pen. But not me! Shellbee Ann Campbell got to roam free. This was a very special privilege I had earned because of how brilliant I am. I knew not to leave the yard. And why would I, with family, friends, and food everywhere! I’d already proven I won’t jump, be rude, or steal food. Mommy and Pappy disappeared with the wedding party to take pictures on the beach. All my friends and relatives were there to watch out for me, but they didn’t have much to watch because I pretty much stayed in the same spot the entire time. As you can imagine, I stayed very close to the humans cooking the food. I had to secure some treats—politely, of course. I am sure other guests would have less to say about the food and more to say about the wedding itself, but as I’ve mentioned many times, this story is all about me!

  The cooking station had heavenly smells from my puppy dreams. And lucky for me, food did get dropped onto the ground. The chef was shocked that I didn’t immediately gobble it up. I’d sit, look at him, look at the food on the ground, and look back up at him, until he’d finally say, “You can have it.” The chef and his assistants were impressed by my self-restraint and bragged about me to Mommy when she finally came back. Mommy assured them I would never steal food, but I could have whatever they wanted to give me. A dream come true! Food festival for Shellbee!

  While surveying the rest of the crowd, I realized that the other guests might share their food with me, too. There was a sea of tables to work, which required a lot of planning on my part. I decided to sit between two people, smile at them, and wag my tail politely. My plan was very efficient because I took them two-by-two. I would work a full table and then go on to the next—I would even remember where I left off! My human littermates who know me well were cracking up, and the strangers I met were won over and gave me a little treat. People were trying to find out who I belonged to so they could compliment them on their well-behaved puppy. Mommy and Pappy later told me that I could have helped Noah load his ark, given my talent for deductive thinking. Who knows what they meant by that. I usually just listen intently and cock my head from side to side, which convinces them that I understand what they are saying. Truth is, moving my head from side to side means just the opposite: I have no idea what they’re saying. But if I listen long enough, I usually get hugs or a treat, so everyone ends up happy!

  Make no mistake—it was a very special day. Jen became an official part of our family, and brother Jimmy and Trixie were overwhelmed with joy.

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  P A R T 3

  ROAD TRIPS

  Letter 13

  Road Trip to Georgia

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee! Getting ready to travel is a big job, and a confusing one, even for me. Mommy and Pappy spent the whole morning taking all their stuff out of the house, my stuff too! I have a special bag with a Labrador’s picture on it. “I bought this for you from a special store, Victoria’s Secret,” Mommy said. I don’t know who Victoria is, but she made a very special bag for me! (You already know that I am a Victoria’s Secret Angel from the pictures in my story.)

  As fast as Mommy packed toys into my bag, I took them out! I pranced around with my prizes in my trap, standing in front of Mommy and Pappy, who would laugh and give me kisses. “Don’t you worry, Shellbee, you’re going with us.” They told me that a lot. Pappy took my big Beasley’s de
signer-brand dog bed out of the house and put it in the backseat of his truck. I have to say, helping Mommy and Pappy pack put miles on me, especially after having to follow them around. I had to stay on my toes—er, paws—because sometimes they’d head one way and then quickly turn around and go the other way! It didn’t look like there was any order at all to moving our things out of the house. It’s all good, though, because we are going “on a big trip, Shellbee”—to our house in Georgia!

  Beginning of Week

  It’s me, Shellbee! Mommy and Pappy estimated I only barked for a total of one hour on our eighteen-hour drive to Georgia. I had planned every one of those barks, too, because I had to pee, poop, eat, or just get out of the car. Of course they think I am perfect, amazing, and all other kinds of things. (I do hope y’all are putting a southern drawl to my communications.)

  On our way down to Georgia, we stayed overnight in a pet-friendly, top-of-the-line motel. I sniffed its holly bushes and pooped by the tennis court. (I love tennis balls!) After we got to our room and fell sound asleep, the fire alarm went off. It was a high-pitched sound that made me shake and quiver. We all ended up in some lounge with other people and their dogs, waiting for the firemen (sorry, firepersons) to let us go back to sleep.

  Then the next day we got back in the car and finally arrived at our Georgia house. I planted my pretty feets on the ground, snorted, and climbed the many stairs to our door. Stairs usually trip me up, but not this time. No tripping, I made it to the door! When we’re at our Georgia house, all my doggy instincts come alive!! Our house is next to a river, high up in trees and surrounded by woods. I have five acres to roam (with the supervision of Mommy and Pappy, of course). They laugh at me because I smile when I run to them! Mommy and Pappy say I’m refueling: I run away to explore but come back and “refuel” on their smiles and kisses.