Shellbee's Story

  I’ve learned a lot during our stay in Georgia. I went in Pappy’s canoe with him while Mommy kayaked next to us. Now, I am a momma’s girl, so I jumped out of the canoe and swam to Mommy’s kayak, fondly referred to as our “yacht.” Well, I didn’t realize I was jumping into water and not onto solid ground—different terra firma for sure; luckily, my Mommy and Pappy love me so much that I had on a special vest to help me float. Mommy pulled me into her kayak, only to transport me back to Pappy’s canoe. Pappy said I can be the copilot now, and Mommy stays close by in her little dopey yacht!!! (But not too close, or else I whine!)

  Every night, Pappy builds a fire, and I lie down next to it on my Beasley’s bed with all my toys. I end up getting too warm by the fire, so I make my own way into my crate to sleep without the heat!

  I’ve had a couple of medical issues while here in Georgia. I threw up in the car . . . and ate it. My teeth are rapidly falling out, and I have way too much dandruff. Poor Mommy gets hives from me! Not that they deter her from hugging me. But even with all my problems, I still get to sleep in bed with Mommy and Pappy, because we’re on vacation. In stupid New York, I only get to sleep with them on the weekends. I’m staying on vacation forever.

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  End of Week One

  It’s me—Shellbee again! Because I lead such an adventurous life, I have more updates for you!

  Pappy and I went canoeing alone downstream (we were bonding). Pappy was so proud of my copiloting the rocky boat. Mommy was waiting for us with her picture machine, and she was wearing a crazy rubber suit. She wanted me to go swimming with her (hence her crazy suit). Well, I stood there and barked my brains out (of which I have a lot), so she just carried me out for a short swim and then brought me back. We’ve gone swimming several more times since then—with photo ops—and I think I love it. Of course, my loving it might have something to do with our post-swim ritual: a warm bath, a blow-dry, a delicious cooked egg, and a warm fire.

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  Beginning of Week Two

  It’s me—Shellbee again! It’s been so cold here in Georgia, but I heard the Northeast is getting buried in snow. I’ve experienced snow already, and the icy cold feeling on my pretty puppy feets.

  Well, I’m here to tell you about my learning experiences with the elements of the world. Pappy and I went canoeing again, and Mommy was in her silly little yacht. While we went upstream, I whined and jumped up onto Pappy’s shoulders. Somehow we didn’t tip over, but I could tell it was a struggle for Pappy. Once we started going back downstream, I was happy and looked around at the sights. (I hate paddling against the current, but I don’t know why!) We stopped by a sandbar for lunch, where I studied the water’s behavior. The water was so clear I could see leaves moving at the bottom, so I’d put my trap down to grab them, only to come up with a snout full of water. After a while, I learned not to breathe in, and before I knew it, I had an additional lunch of leaves. The river water is clean and cool, so there were no ill effects from my drinking it.

  I also learned about shadows and reflections—that’s some tricky stuff. I was quite busy trying to grab things, including my own foot. Mommy says I’m in Piaget’s developmental stage of concrete learning, blah, blah, blah! Pappy says I’m gaining insight and developing problem-solving skills. I say I’m having fun (most of the time). Sometimes I get startled by these strange wonders of the world, at which point I leap onto the nearest person.

  By the way, I now consistently sit and lie down when asked. I’m not great about staying, but I will stop and come when called. The jumping is getting a lot better, mostly because I’ve learned not to jump up in front of them. However, a sneak attack from behind is still in my repertoire. We’ve taken walks in the city of Savannah so I can practice my manners as people greet me (I’m real good at greeting people, too). Everyone says I’m so good, calm, beautiful, etc. Mommy and Pappy wonder who they are talking about because I save my bratty self for them at home.

  I should also warn you that I’m a regular babe magnet. While we were walking around City Market in Savannah, beautiful southern belles kept flocking over to coo at me. Now, Pappy and Uncle Mike (who came to visit) responded like hound dogs to this attention. They drooled and licked their chops in hopes that the ladies would notice them, too. Again, however, it was all about me! Mommy and I also drew a crowd of distinguished southern gentlemen. As you can imagine, we ladies didn’t drool over them. Instead, we just wagged our tails politely.

  Oh my God—at City Market there were these huge animals all decorated and pulling carts, Mommy said they were horses. Even my fiercest barking went unnoticed by those crazy-looking creatures. (I’m sure I could have scared them off eventually if Mommy hadn’t dragged me away.)

  By the way, Savannah is dog-friendly. I love the outdoor cafés with all the crumbs to clean up and birds to bark at. I also love art galleries—I have plenty of room to wag my tail while viewing the artwork.

  Hey, I’ve also learned that people are different colors. During our stroll through Savannah, I stopped to sniff the shoes of a street musician, who loved me up by petting me. When I finally looked up at him, I did a double take. He was so much like me. He said, “You recognize me in you, don’t you?” We all had a hearty laugh while he showered me with kisses.

  We also went “sea” boating across Tybee Island’s vast bay. Mommy, Pappy, and Uncle Mike didn’t time the change of the tide too well, so we had to work really hard to get back to shore. Pappy was doing the J-stroke, and I lay down to steady the bow. I got up, though, when I saw Mommy paddling ahead of us, and I took the helm to watch her vigilantly—whining for her to “come by me.” I was glad when we finally hit the shore. I was a big help all the way to the bitter, tired end.

  Oh, by the way, I’ve gotten ticks two times since we’ve been out in Georgia. These disgusting parasites start out skinny but end up huge after feeding on me! I know I have the sweetest-tasting blood, but it’s really rude to feast on me. Mommy and Pappy heat up a needle and gently hold me down to get the tick to back off. It works well, and I get a treat for not wiggling. The truth is, I know Mommy and Pappy are trying to help me, so I lie very still to make the job go smoothly and quickly—plus, I get a treat for being good! Maybe ticks aren’t so bad after all, since I get something yummy!

  My Uncle Mike spent a week with us in Georgia—he’s a Cool Dude. It didn’t take him long to accept that it is “all about me.” He broke some great rules, too, like giving me food off his plate, real sneaky like. I also realized while he was here that he’s a piggy eater, so I was sure to clean the floor under his seat. But what I came to appreciate the most about him was his reenactment of Mommy and Pappy’s “So So Proud” dance they do for me when I poop. It goes like this: they wave their hands, wiggle their butts, and prance around, carrying on with this “so so proud” chant. You have to see it to believe it. I just pray they don’t do it in front of other dogs!

  Another important part of my life here in Georgia is walking our five-acre property. It’s all mine, and it’s my job to keep it safe for my family. I get real excited during my rounds as I sniff and check for anything that has invaded the perimeter! I also pick up sticks and pine cones along the way, and I love ripping out plants. Mommy and Pappy play hide-and-seek with me, too—but they’re pretty easy to find because they are too big to hide behind trees!

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  Letter 14

  Ritual at Brewster’s

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee. I know I said that I don’t like school, but it did have one perk. After class, Mommy and Pappy would take me dining at Brewster’s Seafood Restaurant. We would dine at one of the outdoor picnic tables, where I became a welcome guest. As I’ve told you, I have never taken food from a table or eaten food that’s fallen onto the floor without permission. It’s a politeness I was born with and live by. It also helps that I am surrounded by humans who l
ove me and always share their food with me, so I never have to worry about going hungry.

  Brewster’s is where I discovered calamari, a many-legged sea creature! I’ve snacked on dead crabs at the beach before, so I knew this dish was worth me being still and waiting patiently. I kept my eyes riveted on the door, ignoring all of Mommy and Pappy’s praises about my manners. Then, when the food carrier finally came, I backed away from the table to give him room. “Amazing,” the food carrier said. “Most dogs jump up when food comes to the table.” Not me. My training at Brewster’s has opened me up to many other culinary delights. Oh, the fine restaurants I’ve been to!

  Brewster’s is and always was one of my favorite restaurants. I highly recommend their seafood: it’s always fresh, not like the dead crabs I eat at the beach! So if you’re ever in Hampton Bays, New York, give them a howl and chow down!

  Now let me woof my praises of the Crane Inn at Jekyll Island, Georgia. My visit to Crane Inn came about when I was three years old and was one of the finest therapy/companion dogs. With my service vest donned, I could go anywhere, so five-star restaurants were always on the list. My favorite waitress at Crane Inn is Gabriella (although everyone loves me there; they must all be dog people). One of my most special memories is New Year’s Eve at Crane Inn. I wore my beautiful, custom-made, red velvet dress with fur and lace trim. Gabriella even reserved a table by the fireplace for me, Mommy, and Pappy! I always steady myself before entering a restaurant—the smell of so many different foods is intoxicating.

  I slid under the white tablecloth to lie down, facing the warm fire. Every now and then, Mommy would slip me a taste of some delicious, forbidden food. Crane Inn is so welcoming, with sparkly lights, relaxing music, and very happy customers. The food is exquisite. Mommy said, “This is a five-star restaurant for my five-star girl.” The evening was magical. I’ve never been to such a royal celebration. As we left the restaurant, the other guests were surprised to see me glide past their tables. Their comments were cheerful in nature—no one even knew a dog was there all throughout dinner. I was “so so proud” that my presence was considered good. I believe that part of my job in life is to demonstrate some dogs can mingle with humans, even in five-star restaurants. Truthfully, I’m even better than some human guests because I don’t leave any crumbs on the floor!

  We’ve visited Crane Inn and Jekyll Island many times. Jekyll Island is where my dreams come to life: the seashore is endless and the waves gentle. In New York, the waves pound, roll, and growl—sometimes brother Jimmy calls it “Lake Atlantic” when he can’t catch rides on his floating board. Mommy and Pappy never let me swim in the ocean in New York—“very dangerous, Shellbee; your elbows will get hurt.” It’s true I have a physical weakness, even though the puppy cutter, Dr. McNamara, fixed me up (more on these puppy cutters later). So when I’m in New York, I have to watch from the shore, barking my brains out as Mommy floats around on a board. The nerve of her to leave me, Shellbee Ann Campbell, on the shore with Pappy!

  Well, on Jekyll Island, I can swim all I want because my elbows won’t get hurt, and my legs don’t get pushed around in circles.

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  Letter 15

  On the Road Again

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee. We’re on the road again! We left New York the other day at 5:45 AM. It was weird because Mommy and Pappy are never up together that early. Usually Pappy and I bounce around in the morning, and then I hop onto Pappy’s side of the bed and cuddle next to Mommy. But this morning was vastly different, so I became suspicious and started tailgating Mommy. Whenever she stopped, we’d have a fender bender. Then Mommy would kneel down to embrace my face, kiss me, and say, “Don’t you worry, Shellbee—you’re going with us to Georgia.” Well, that’s way too much information, so I stayed on her tail anyway.

  Pappy prepped the backseat of our old, faithful Bronco. It looked like an airplane with my Beasley’s bed taking up the whole seat and bumpers all around me. I sat myself right in the middle of that seat so my face was smack dab in the center of Mommy and Pappy’s bucket seats. Out of sight is out of mind, so I make sure I’m “Always on My Mind” (well, their mind). That’s an Elvis Presley song, isn’t it? Kris, who worked with Mommy for over thirty years, loves Elvis Presley. I’ve met Kris only once, but she’s very important to me because she is typing up my story, even though she lives far away.

  I was silent the whole drive. Mommy and Pappy kept to my schedule, so all systems were released and refueled. We took a lunch stop at a state park. NO DOGS ALLOWED signs were everywhere!!! Apparently, Mommy and Pappy can’t read because we took a lovely walk.

  We stopped at 5:00 PM in Selma, North Carolina, to stay at a dilapidated, pet-friendly motel. Mommy tried to ignore the skin-crawl factor; Pappy, a man without sensibilities, kept saying, “This is great—only forty-five bucks.” We took a walk around town. Selma is a ghost town. It has only antique shops filled with dead people’s things. I practiced being good on the leash while I smelled all the fire hydrants and strange plants. Mommy and Pappy don’t know a thing about botany. They classify God’s green earth in big categories: “that’s a tree, that’s a bush, that’s a flower, and that’s a plant.” A lot of good that does me. One tree sure smells different from another, so they must have names. For two educated people, Mommy and Pappy sure can be dumb.

  In our hotel room that night, we watched a horse race on TV, even though I don’t like horses and barked most of the time. Mommy cried because Afleet Alex was cut off by Scrappy T and almost fell, but then he recovered and won the race. You have to read that last sentence really fast to get the feeling of thundering hooves raising the dirt like fog over water. I’m going to see horses again in South Carolina, and I’ll make sure my bark is loud enough then to scare them off.

  When we finally got to Georgia, Mommy and Pappy discovered that we were locked out of the house, even though Pappy claimed he had the right key. Well, they set about trying to break and enter into their own home. Imagine the sight of Mommy climbing up a big ladder onto the back deck while Pappy is still insisting he has the right key and I’m barking my brains out with every step Mommy takes, higher and higher. Unfortunately, none of their efforts yielded entry into the house. They finally had to call some people who did have the right key. (By the way, Pappy’s denial about the key lasted a long time.)

  Mommy and Pappy first tried calling Pat and Jack, but Jim is the one who ended up coming over to let us in. Jim is Melanie’s husband, and Melanie’s whole family is renovating our house in Georgia. As renovations go, you make a plan and then change your plan. It’s a funny human behavior that is supposedly goal-directed, but they never seem to reach their goal. Mommy and Pappy hired Melanie because she’s trustworthy and has an artistic touch. Mel has a husband, five kids, a full-time job, and our house to fix. Our house is getting there, and everything Mel does looks great, but Mel is a dart-gun artist: she darts here, starts something, darts there, starts something else, and on and on it goes. Humans are funny creatures with strange habits. It’s too much for me to figure out because I like to keep things simple with the four Ps: Play, Pester, Pee, and Poop.

  Pat and Jack are the people who sold Mommy and Pappy this Georgian oasis of peace. I love them for trusting us to continue building on their dream. See, this house was originally built by Pat and Jack with their own paws, an undertaking not for the faint of heart. Jack spent his whole life building, so he wasn’t scared at all, but Mommy and Pappy get scared just thinking about his labor of love. The house itself is thirteen feet off the ground, held up by steel I-beams (whatever those are, they’re sure heavy). Now, I know that Pat and Jack don’t have wings, but somehow this way-up-high work got done. I suspect Jack had to swing from ropes tied to trees in order to put this house together.

  I first met Pat and Jack when I was just about one, and they came over to the Georgia house for dinner. Mommy loves to cook, and she makes army-size portions. (I should confess here that I�
��m forty pounds heavier. The last time I was in Georgia, I weighed twenty-five pounds—you add it up, because a lady never reveals her weight.) At the time, Pat and Jack had a little, white furball named Missy. Missy was mature enough to ignore me, but she did let me sniff her a little. I got along great with Missy most of the time (at least while she tolerated me). I loved the way Jack petted me and said with his southern drawl, “You sure are a pretty puppy.”

  On this visit to Georgia, Missy had already gone to heaven with all the other Pat-and-Jack dogs. Now Pat and Jack have Belle, a Chihuahua. They found her at an animal-rescue shelter. Jack said, “Once I picked up Belle, I never put her down.” Belle is very loved and learning that she’s safe now. Isn’t it great: there is a place that rescues animals, and there are people who open their homes and hearts to them! Life is good.

  Pat and Jack have come over this time to be taste-testers for Mommy’s southern cook-off contest. Mommy whipped up food for days; she even threw out the failures, much to my dismay. I can’t tell you what she’s entering because she says she’ll have to kill me if I do. My Mommy is still a winner in my eyes.

  If you haven’t figured it out yet, Mommy and Pappy are weirdos. Pat even agrees with me—and for good reason. One night when we were all eating out together, Pat said in a deadpan voice, “Jack and I thought you all were crazy. What kind of people walk up to your house and ask ya to sell it to them?” Mommy replied, “Well since you know us now, do you still think we’re crazy?” With a twinkle in her eye, Pat said, “Yes, but that’s alright—we’re nuts, too!” We all really enjoy our time with Pat, Jack, and Belle (even though Belle won’t play with me). There’s a lot of laughing, good food, and storytelling. I love Pat and Jack’s stories about the olden days. I’m just glad I wasn’t around to see them embarrass themselves, like the time they held hands and skipped through the mall. I guess human love makes you do dopey things.