Shellbee's Story

by Jennifer Flynn-Campbell

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  Letter 25

  Disturbing the Peace

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee. This is a story about my criminal activities, which include, but are not limited to, disturbing the peace, resisting arrest, burglary (stealing tissues mostly), and an occasional public display of lewd and lascivious behavior (with my hump puppy).

  Let’s start with disturbing the peace, which is a constant, daily event taking form in numerous pleasurable ways—at least for me! Before Pappy wakes up at 4:00 AM, I get busy disturbing his peaceful sleep. The trigger for my criminal behavior is the sound of the coffee grinder. All criminals have something that triggers their behavior. It’s so, so funny for me to go through my routine with gleeful sadism. First, I do a full-body slam on Pappy’s kidneys. He groans, and I snort (it’s a symphony). If that doesn’t work, I stand over him on all fours and position myself for the flop. The flop is very critical to my peace-disturbing process. Then I wrap my paws around his neck, real tight, and lick him to near death. He’s helpess against my complete domination and control (the signature of a serial pouncer). I have forever altered Pappy’s morning routine; he gets no peace until I’m fed. Before I came along, Pappy could never be roused before his coffee was steeped. His life has been divided into Before Shellbee (B.S.) and After Shellbee (A.S.).

  Mommy is more difficult to disturb, so I’ve taken to combining several crimes: disturbing the peace while stealing and resisting arrest. Poor Mommy has an old-lady bladder; the urgency of the call is fertile ground for fun. More times than not, she leaves the door ajar, so I steal my way into the room where she’s perched on her throne, and I leap up onto her lap to say hello. I know she’s going to tell me to get down, so I have a covert plan for that, too: I steal a tissue from the garbage pail and take off. It’s a fabulous game, with Mommy—pants only halfway up—chasing me. The resisting-arrest part comes into play as Mommy puts up barriers to corner me. Once cornered, I surrender because I’m cracking up over Mommy’s half on, half off pants!

  Now, my brother Jimmy never falls prey to my criminal activities. Instead, he’s a co-conspirator—we are Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. My brother Jimmy says rules are made to be broken, and you just gotta pay the consequences. That’s okay because I’ve never had a consequence I couldn’t live with. Isn’t life grand!

  Work is another fabulous place to disturb the peace. Whenever doctors arrive with important-looking bags or files in tow—and let’s not forget full coffee mugs—I stop them dead in their tracks with my two lethal weapons: my wagging tail and big grin. It is so funny to watch them juggle all their belongings while trying to politely say hello to me. The whole office gang has to get involved, rescuing the important work junk and splashing coffee so as to preserve my greeting ritual.

  I admit, I sometimes steal at work when I’m bored—snatching something from the garbage can and prancing around with it in my trap. This happens only if it’s been a real long day and Pappy didn’t come to get me. Restlessness sets in, and no holds are barred. I steal—the garbage cans go up on the desks—I bark—my leash goes on—I engage in sneak attacks, jumping up behind Auntie Linda and Auntie Donna’s chairs—my black butt gets put in my spot. It’s a great game because I resist arrest until they really mean business.

  Auntie Donna means business pretty quickly. I’ve heard her on the phone with her kids. There’s no nonsense tolerated—”that dishwasher better be empty or else!” Neither I nor her kids ever want to find out what “or else” entails. Auntie Linda, the enabler, tries real hard to be firm, but I see right through it to her softness. So I keep on being pesky until she calls me fresh and turns her back on me. The other night we worked very late, so I got bored and harassed Auntie Linda for two hours. I sang, pushed her chair, and stole papers, making myself a real nuisance. Auntie Linda survived, but Mommy told me on our way home that I had worn out my welcome. Auntie Linda rationalized my poor behavior, saying I was having a difficult time. I love Auntie Linda’s excuses for me—truth is, I was acting like a criminal and loving every minute of it.

  As far as my lewd and lascivious behavior with hump puppy, I’ll leave that to your imagination . . .

  If you add up all my criminal offenses, they never accumulate to jail time. However, I may find myself in front of a judge—an Honorable Hound Dog—getting a D.I.N.S. petition slapped on me (Dogs in Need of Supervision). For people, this is a P.I.N.S. petition (People in Need of Supervision). I better reel myself back in because having a probation officer in my life could become a real nuisance. Imagine me, Shellbee, doing community service, giving back to society, putting the needs of others before my own! Not happening. I’ll make sure to not push the envelope too far!

  As you know, Mommy works in the courts—the Supreme Court in Suffolk County—and sometimes she shares stories about me with Judge John C. Bivona. Judge Bivona even keeps pictures of me on his phone to show off my beauty to others. Well, one day Mommy told Judge Bivona a Shellbee’s-being-a-nuisance story (tattle tale, don’t you think!). Judge Bivona said, “Tell her you’ll take her to a restaurant, and she’ll be someone’s meal!!” Judge Bivona loves me, and I am sure he would never let anyone cook me up. In fact, he loves pets a lot and puts big, important court orders in place to protect them when necessary.

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  Letter 26

  Sniffing Hineys

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee. Poems have been written about me and Jakey sniffing each other’s hineys. In fact, Jakey likes sniffing my hiney so much that his name is now Jake Sniff. Auntie Linda sometimes puts Jakey away to give my hiney a rest! Jakey was the first dog I truly loved. We’ve gone on vacations, swam at Auntie Linda and Uncle Richie’s pool, spent holidays together, and sniffed each other’s hineys. Whenever I see Jake Sniff, I squeal and chase him. Back in the day, Jakey was too fast for me to catch, but our family would still bark in unison, “Run, Jakey, run.” They’d cheer him on because Mommy was worried he would get hurt, since I am so big. Never happened, ’cause I, Shellbee Ann Campbell, would never let that happen! Well, Pappy wrote two poems about Jake Sniff and me, so whenever we’re together, everyone sings them to the tune of “Yankee Doodle Dandy”:

  Jake and Shell went to a bar

  To have a glass of winey.

  Shellbee had a zinfandel

  And Jakey sniffed her hiney.

  Shellbee bought a Cadillac:

  It was so black and shiny.

  Shell took Jakey for a ride

  And Jakey sniffed her hiney.

  Jake Sniff and I loved those songs, and we especially loved everyone’s laughter as they sang them.

  Sniffing hineys isn’t all fun and games, though. It can be very dangerous as well. I learned all about this while on vacation up in the mountains in Georgia. Mommy and Pappy, ever adventurous, decided it would be a great idea to stay the night at a cabin. So we drove for an hour up winding, narrow roads with cliffs to look at out the window. Normally, I snooze when we’re in the big truck, but this drive felt different, so I was sitting up alert!

  When we finally arrived at our cliffside cabin (I love vacations!), we decided to walk around. Mommy and Pappy let me be off-leash because I am so good. Now, imagine the sounds of trouble—think Jaws: dunh-dunh-dunh-dunh . . . I see a big dog, or so I think. I trot on over to sniff its hiney. It’s a rather large dog with a very strange smell. Suddenly, Mommy goes bananas, doing jumping jacks, clapping, screaming, and yelling. Shellbee, I tell myself, this isn’t a good hiney to sniff! I run like the wind back to Mommy and Pappy, Pappy picks up my seventy-pound self, and quickly whisks me into the house.

  It’s high-alert time. I can smell the fear coming off Mommy and Pappy. I am confused and scared, so I go upstairs and hide under the bed. Mommy and Pappy can deal with this problem; no need for me to help. Well, if you haven’t figured it out already, the dog’s hiney I had sniffed was a bear cub, and momma bear was not far behind h
im.

  You’d think that my story would end there, with all of us safe and snug in the cabin. Nope. Momma bear decides to attack our garbage cans, and then she stands up to get a good look at our roof. I’m upstairs, and Mommy and Pappy are convinced momma bear is looking for me! Now, I can growl, but momma bears can really growl. Mommy gets her gun and calls for me. I peek around the corner to let her know I am safe but then dive back under the bed. Thank goodness no one got shot—momma bear was given a warning to get lost, and she left with her two cubs. Yikes, scary stuff!

  And that’s the day I learned that not all hineys are sniffable!

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  P A R T 7

  MEETING

  LIFE’S

  CHALLENGES

  Letter 27

  Shellbee Chores

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee. I have countless, very important chores to do on a daily basis. I know what my job is when the sun comes up and when it goes down. For example, when it’s light outside, I help Mommy dress for the day. Mommy explained to me, “Shellbee, I don’t have black, furry feet like you, so I need socks!” At first, I was confused about what to do with her sock-filled drawer, so I set to taking out every sock and putting it on the floor. Mommy has a lot of socks for only two feet!! Mommy worked with me on this chore, so I could do it right. She has socks on one side of her drawer that look and feel different than the ones on the other side. Depending on which side of the dresser she taps her finger on, I know what kind of sock to grab with my trap. This system may sound easy, but in the beginning I was so excited to help I grabbed as many socks as I could, enough for an octopus. Mommy and I worked on this every day: she sat on the floor, tapped the side of the drawer, and I grabbed a pair of socks. Eventually I learned to grab the kind of socks she wanted to put on her two hairless feet each day. You can imagine the time and mental energy it took for me to learn this very important chore. I knew I couldn’t have Mommy’s hairless feet unprotected. Once Mommy’s feet are covered, she takes some more of her socks and puts them on my feet as well—front paws and sometimes even back paws covered in socks. At first, I tried to walk with them on. I looked like a high-stepping horse, so I learned to take them off, which is not an easy task. Imagine: I grab the top of the sock and pull, pull, pull ’til my paw pops up into the air! It took a lot of trial and error to realize that I had to grab the sock by one of my other twinkle toes in order to get it off! Mommy and Pappy get many belly laughs out of this game. Pappy’s socks are the silliest of them all.

  Just so you know, “a sock is not just a sock,” as Sigmund Freud might have said. Socks have become a huge part of my life. I love carrying them around, using them for playtime, and rescuing them from the basket when it’s time for their bath (I hate baths, so I bet socks do, too!). Mommy is demonically possessed when it comes to socks! She puts a sock on my trap as if my trap were a foot! Try as I might to shake it off, I can’t. What does get it off is lying down and smacking my face with my paws. Sounds terrible for me, doesn’t it?? But I actually love the “Sock on Trap” game; once I get the sock off, I fling it at Mommy so we can do it all over again. Socks are endless fun, especially if you’re into being hog-tied—which I am! Getting out of a sock hog-tie is a challenge even Houdini would be mystified by. Oh, and I love the “Sock on Tail” game—a sock is tied around my tail, and I chase it endlessly in circles.

  We play a lot of games with my toys, too. Snakey is long enough to be tied around my belly, and its two squeaking heads drive me in crazy circles! We also play a game called “Buried Alive.” I’ll be peacefully sleeping on my personal dog bed only to wake up and find myself covered in toys! I spring up, grab a toy, and chase Mommy. Mommy runs away and shrieks, “Shellbee, you’re scaring me!” Pappy crack ups and tells her, “You were asking for it!”

  Oh, and I should tell you about my love for Mommy’s ice water. Mommy works hard, so it’s nice when she finally gets to relax and laze around like a tired, old hound dog. Then it begins. I, Shellbee Ann Campbell, have trained Mommy to watch my furry body movements and look into my eyes. Mommy sits down on the couch to relax with a nice, cold glass of water, I hop up and stare at her, she smiles, I glance at the ice cubes in her water, and wag my tail. Mommy always understands. “Oh, Shellbee, you want some ice.” She gets up and fills my bowl with crushed ice, which I ignore. When she finally gets back to the couch, I hop down and keep staring at her glass of ice water. Yes, I have crushed ice in my bowl, but I want Mommy’s! Mommy always gives in and feeds me one cube at a time until her ice is all gone! I love this ritual with Mommy. She may be dog-tired, wanting to rest, but first we share our special ice cubes filled with love.

  When we’re not playing games, I still like to keep Mommy and Pappy constantly entertained. If the weather is nice, entertainment comes easily: grab a leash and head for outdoor adventures. Now, it’s more of a challenge on the days when it’s raining cats and dogs. I, Shellbee Ann Campbell, have come up with a clever idea to entertain all of us: indoor picnics. We lay out a blanket, I bring a large variety of my stuffed toys to join us, and then supervise the preparation of our picnic foods.

  Supervising food preparation is another one of my daily chores. I lie on my kitchen pillow and sample tidbits. Don’t think this is an easy job, either—a piece of spaghetti isn’t just a piece of spaghetti, it’s a snake! It wiggles through the air to the tune of that snake charmer song! Da da da da da, dee dee dee dee dee dee dee . . . This song is supposed to hypnotize the snake, but I must admit, the wiggling spaghetti is the one that hypnotizes me. It has my full attention—my eyes rolling back and forth, head gently swaying; then into my trap goes the stringy delight. I am often questioned while I’m supervising the food preparation, and it’s the same question: “Shellbee, do you agree, or don’t you agree?” With food, it’s usually related to a taste test, but I’m also asked this question at other times, like during family meetings, when we’re discussing big social issues. Do you see? I am consulted about everything that goes on in my family.

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  Letter 28

  The Physical World

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee. I know that humans have bodily experiences that can turn into medical issues. I have certainly heard enough barking from plenty of people about aches and pains, running noses (go catch them, I say—after all, your nose shouldn’t run away), and a variety of other complaints. My pack, though, isn’t big on complaining: they simply go to work sick, hoping to infect others. My pack also has a variety of ages, old timers as well as crazy youngsters. The old timers develop aging complaints: Auntie Donna “threw her back out” (I’ve tried to tell her to keep that part of her body), and Doc Ray has high cholesterol (“We just have to watch our diet,” I say). Brother Jimmy rides his bicycle off cliffs (silly fool could get hurt), and Auntie Linda is doing okay, but her relatives are having troubles that cause her to worry. My Mommy has issues with her body, but she tries not to let them bother her. She says her body is “just a carriage God gave me, so I keep on truckin’.” Pappy is fine most of the time, but he’s a big baby when he’s sick.

  There are all kinds of ways to respond to the body. At work, we have patients who are obsessors—they pay more attention to their bodies than their lives. We have people who want to be sick, even make themselves sick—now that’s sick! And we have people who have God-given physical challenges; they are my role models as I have a God-given challenge with my elbows.

  For a long time, I’ve been “weebling” when I walk (like my Uncle Mike). The medical term for it is “elbow dysplasia,” which basically means I should be a person. This walking on all fours is ridiculous. If I were upright, I would be fine.

  I started my medical journey with Dr. Iannaccone; she is my primary vet, and I love her. Mommy and I went to see her when I was very young, maybe nine months old. I had to have an empty belly (howl!) so Dr. Iannaccone could x-ray all my limbs. I also had to be put to sleep
for the procedure. When I woke up, my favorite vet tech was there, so I bestowed my kisses on him. Dr. Iannaccone was going to send my x-rays to a special doctor to get us the most accurate reading, but she already knew the diagnosis. My Dr. Iannaccone is humbly brilliant: she wanted to send my x-rays to some head-honcho doc even though she was fully qualified and read them correctly. She told me I had bilateral elbow dysplasia. Dr. Iannaccone wished she could say her diagnosis was wrong because she didn’t want me, C.P. (cutest puppy), to have to deal with E.D. (Elbow Dysplasia). Mommy and Pappy took me to Dr. Mary Ellen McLaughlin, and the diagnosis was again confirmed. (By the way, Dr. McLaughlin was Dogman’s idea.) Dr. McLaughlin said Dr. Iannaccone has given me excellent care. All these doctors said the same thing: Shellbee needs surgery now!

  Well, now I’m B.C.P.—Broken Cutest Puppy. My pack wants to be as confident as possible in a positive outcome before putting me under the knife. Confidence comes with getting a lot of information, sorting it out, and boiling it down to the right mix (I sure hope a special dog bone comes from all this effort!).

  Before surgery, I have a bunch of things I need to do. First, I have to cut back on my eating. Yes, me, B.C.P., has to lose some weight (howl!). I also have to cut back on my activities (okay by me; I’m not big on sweating), and I have to see more doctors. Dogman listens earnestly to Mommy’s reports and says, “Isn’t it great how many people are coming together to help Shellbee.” I love people. They are so cool. Even strangers often stop and take the time to comment on my beauty.