Shellbee's Story Read online

  Shellbee's

  Story

  Shellbee, Author

  Written by Jennifer Flynn-Campbell, PhD

  Copyrighted Material

  Shellbee’s Story

  Copyright © 2016 by Campbell and Associates, P.C. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written permission from the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  For information about this title or to order other books and/or electronic media, contact the publisher:

  Campbell and Associates, P.C.

  1227 Main Street

  Suite 201

  Port Jefferson, New York 11777

  [email protected]

  Instagram: shellbees_story

  Facebook: http://bit.ly/29J6KB7

  Library of Congress Control Number: TXu1-990-868

  ISBNs: 978-0-9975966-3-2 (Hardcover)

  978-0-9975966-0-1 (Softcover)

  978-0-9975966-9-4 (eBook)

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Stuart Horwitz, Book Architecture

  Cover Design: Ariana Boroumand [email protected]

  Interior Design: 1106 Design

  Social Media Manager: Caitlin Condon [email protected]

  Author

  Shellbee Ann Campbell

  Shellbee was much more than an English Breed Labrador. Shellbee was imbued with an ability to view life through a lens of joy and love, which she was determined to share with you in human language.

  Writer

  Jennifer Flynn-Campbell, Ph.D.

  Dr. Campbell became Shellbee’s scribe to put written words to her boundless life experience. Dr. Campbell was blessed to become Shellbee’s Mommy. The preparation for her role as Shellbee’s Mommy stemmed from her expertise as a Clinical and Forensic Psychologist and Psychoanalyst. Additionally, Shellbee and her human littermates shared a great love of the outdoors and water sports, which fueled their reciprocal altruism. Becoming Shellbee’s writer has been a great honor.

  Photo Editor and Photographer

  Ariana Boroumand

  Ariana is a student, with a Presidential Scholarship, to Pratt Institute. Ariana loved Shellbee for many years and woofed loudly at the chance to create her life story in pictures. This was a real challenge, since our photos required a lot of editing. Ariana also designed the book cover and has original photos as well in Shellbee’s Story.

  Editor

  Stuart Horwitz

  At first Stuart was referred to as coming from the primate family, a chimpanzee specifically, due to his unquenchable need to nitpick. We moved on from the classification of primate to bird of prey, also known as a raptor. Stuart went from nitpicker to eagle-eye, a much more symbiotic relationship he identified with. Much to my surprise, Stuart didn’t stop there: he then became a fire-breathing dragon. This transformation was wonderful, as dragons are known “to watch,” the beasts that guard valuables. Well, Shellbee’s Story was clearly very valuable to Stuart, who was capable of shape-shifting into three different lifeforms along this journey.

  Transcriber of Illegible Handwriting

  Kris Barcomb

  Transcription is so much more than typing! Transcriptionists can pick out voices from different conversations, understand different accents, research obscure terms, and correct grammar and punctuation. Whew! All at over 80 words per minute. Kris has transcribed every report, research paper, thesis, and dissertation produced by Dr. Campbell. Dr. Campbell at times sounded like different people, depending on her emotional state. She also never paid attention to grammar or punctuation—it was all left to Kris. As far as Dr. Campbell is concerned, collectively she and Kris earned every degree together. Shellbee’s Story has been their most personal and emotional project to finish conjointly. Kris was given the task of reading illegible handwritten letters, at times spotted from tears. Kris’s ability to become one with Shellbee as she channeled her story speaks loudly to what a gifted woman she is.

  The Closer

  Donna Crabb-Hanna

  A closer brings together the parts to join and unite. Donna did just that throughout the final stages of the project as she is an expert at closing up the ranks with surgical precision. Shellbee and Donna shared a unique bond working on forensic reports conjoined as one at the computer and in love.

  Social Media Manager

  Caitlin Candon

  Caitlin is a graduate of Boston University College. Currently studying copy writing at Miami Ad School in New York. Caitlin enthusiastically accepted the role of social media manager, as she too knew Shellbee and loves animals!

  Contents

  Prologue

  Introduction

  Part 1: WHEN I WAS A BABY . . .

  Letter 1: Heart and Mind

  Letter 2: Puppy School

  Letter 3: Age One Doesn’t Equal Seven

  Letter 4: The Saga Continues . . .

  Letter 5: Cape Elizabeth, Maine

  Part 2: FAMILY . . .

  Letter 6: Friendship

  Letter 7: Happy Fourth of July

  Letter 8: Halloween

  Letter 9: Settling Arguments

  Letter 10: Birthday Parties

  Letter 11: Christmas

  Letter 12: Brother Jimmy and Jen Get Married

  Part 3: ROAD TRIPS . . .

  Letter 13: Road Trip to Georgia

  Letter 14: Ritual at Brewster’s

  Letter 15: On the Road Again

  Letter 16: Life’s a Beach

  Letter 17: Buy Me a Camper

  Part 4: MOMMY’S WORK DEN . . .

  Letter 18: Going Home with Pappy, Waiting for Mommy

  Letter 19: Please Let Spring Be on Its Way

  Letter 20: I Can’t Believe You’re in My Life

  Part 5: ADVENTURES . . .

  Letter 21: Taking the Plunge

  Letter 22: Little Tybee Island

  Letter 23: Dock Diving

  Part 6: SHELLBEE’S TIPS . . .

  Letter 24: Self-Help Guide to Being Alone

  Letter 25: Disturbing the Peace

  Letter 26: Sniffing Hineys

  Part 7: MEETING LIFE’S CHALLENGES . . .

  Letter 27: Shellbee Chores

  Letter 28: The Physical World

  Letter 29: Surgery and Recovery, Dr. McNamara and My Elbows, Plus More

  Letter 30: Bodily Encounters

  Part 8: CONCLUSION . . .

  Letter 31: Perched on High

  Letter 32: Transition

  Letter 33: Dear Shellbee

  Dedication

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee! My story has been put into words so humans see the world through my eyes, hear the sounds of emotions, and come to understand the purpose behind the adventures of my life. Auntie Linda, who you will hear much about, wrote this poem about me after she studied how much I am loved and give unconditional love:

  The Best Part About Owning a Dog . . .Shellbee

  . . . is the way she will come over to see me, for no reason,

  just to let me know I’m important to her

  . . . is the way she is always ready to sit on my lap

  and have her belly scratched

  . . . is the way she looks into my eyes and finds contentment

  in simply being near me

  . . . is the way she will run all over the yard, fetch a soggy

  tennis ball, and bring it back to me as if to say,

  “Look Mom, it’s all I have, but it’s yours . . .”

  . . . is the way she wakes me up in the m
orning by pushing her cold, wet nose in my ear and snuffing loudly

  . . . is the way she tears up cardboard all over the house because it’s fun, even though she knows she shouldn’t

  . . . is the way she’s sure she can catch the leaves in the river today and swim safely to me in my kayak

  . . . is the way she comes over to me when she is bewildered

  and allows me to kneel behind her; pulling her close,

  we take some deep breaths; together we are still . . .

  . . . is the way she wedges herself near me when I am sad and pushes all others aside, to console me with her love

  . . . is the way she doesn’t mind how often she comes to work

  and is reluctant to go home without me

  . . . is the way she doesn’t care about a bad hair day

  or how many errands I have to run

  . . . is the way she loves me, even when I am impatient with her

  and have no time this morning for a game of No Peeking

  . . . is the way she instinctively knows I want her to do her

  very best at doggy kindergarten, knowing deep in her heart

  any performance will win my approval

  . . . is the way her shiny black coat feels like

  liquid silk under my fingers

  . . . is the way she finds wisdom beyond words

  — Linda Wisneski

  “Auntie Linda”

  Introduction

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee. I’m going to do my very best to tell you about my life and what I’ve learned about humans. As a dog, I use my heart to guide me and my brains to help me act. However, now I am very far from my canine origins, as human ways have also become a part of who I am. If you don’t believe in that sort of thing, then just believe I am a dog with a huge heart and lots of brains.

  After I separated from my canine litter, my goal has always been to weave myself into the souls of my human littermates. Whether family or friends, I have given them my unconditional love. Humans crave love, and I’ve learned it doesn’t come often or easily to them during their time on earth. If you don’t believe in souls, then just believe I’ve become the breathtaking landscape of my human littermates’ lives, their daily sunrise and sunset. I’ve been by their side for all their emotional thoughts and experiences. I’ve provided love, joy, comfort, laughter, surprise, entertainment, and tireless protection. As a canine, I have heightened senses that don’t give way to the distractions humans face. So while you’re sleeping, I am, too, but I can still hear what is going on. Even the noise of your snoring won’t distract me if I need to become alert.

  A dog’s greeting is filled with countless messages. I nearly wiggle myself to the outer limits when I see you, filling your heart with my boundless love while washing away the difficulties of your day. I provide you with routines that become important rituals. Rituals give a sense of order in the chaotic human world. I drag you back from chaos because I can’t be ignored. No one can ignore the display of unconditional love I give so freely. I live in a family with many friends who have returned unconditional love to me. The warm hands of my human littermates embracing my face and the tender kisses bestowed on my head let me know I’m doing a great job. This is the story of my heartfelt love festival on earth.

  Yours truly, in love,

  Shellbee

  P A R T 1

  WHEN I WAS

  A BABY

  Letter 1

  Heart and Mind

  Hi, it’s me—Shellbee. I start all my stories by identifying myself, just to make sure you know this is all about me! Humans have a peculiar way of getting easily distracted from what’s most important—me, Shellbee. My stories are full of adventure and lots of feelings because I live in a pack of human kooks. Right from the beginning, I knew something big would happen to open the door to my life among human littermates.

  Before I went to live with my human family, I was at Woodloch Kennel, where I was born into a litter of five black and four yellow English Labs. My mom was Betsy, and my dad was Eddie. Long after I had forgotten my origins, Mommy and Pappy got the crazy idea to take me back to Woodloch Kennel to visit when I was eleven months old. More on that dumb plan later. I only remember the warmth of my siblings and my attempts to climb over them to nurse. By the way, the life of a puppy changes rapidly—one day it’s warm milk and cuddling with littermates, and the next it’s dog-eat-dog and fighting for your chow from one big bowl! I developed a great strategy: I’d stand on top of my siblings and fall face-first into the food. This has been a style of mine throughout my life, and it’s mostly based on how I’m feeling at the time.

  On my very first Halloween (a holiday I became quite involved in yearly), I could feel that something was different at the kennel. There was a shift in the normal routine; excitement was tumbling through the air. My littermates and I were in the outdoor pen, our view of the den room blocked. My brothers and sisters were busy with their usual yelping, barking, and whining, but I was silent and standing riveted at the door. I had noticed that Ann, our breeder, wasn’t around. She was present at our birth nearly two months before, and she was usually very watchful. After what felt like a long time, Ann finally came to our pen and opened the door. My siblings and I all ran into the den room; two people were sitting on the floor and one in a chair. My chow-bowl instincts immediately kicked in. I stepped on top of all my brothers and sisters and made it to the big, tree-like man. And I didn’t stop there. I got right up into the man’s face, nipping, yelping, and wiggling my fluffy, Jell-O–like little self. I am a natural-born attention seeker. While the rest of my littermates wandered around unaware of the importance of this event, I, Shellbee Ann Campbell, knew the tree man was all mine! (Shellbee Ann Campbell is my full name. I didn’t know it at the time, but I soon found out.) You may be asking yourself why I went to the tree man and not to the lady on the floor who would become my mommy. The tree man was big and strong, and had limbs stretched out to climb on—plus he vibrated with happy sounds.

  Mommy and Pappy were looking for a black girl—there were four of us. We all went back outside; the tree man (my pappy) wouldn’t put me down, and I cuddled in his limbs so high up in the air. Mommy and Pappy loved me so much they wanted to take me home. I learned something that day: set your eyes on the prize, and the bone is yours!! Ann painted a purple stripe on me to let everyone know I had found my forever home. Little did I know I was marked with a color I would be surrounded by for the rest of my life. Mommy is a purple freak—purple walls, purple furniture, purple clothes, purple-purple everything! Dogs are supposed to be color blind, but what scientists don’t understand is colors have feelings. Purple has always felt peaceful and safe to me.

  Mommy and Pappy were ready to take me home, but I wasn’t going without some fussing—and for good reason. I had to stay in a crate the whole ride home. I yelped, cried, whined, winced, and was downright miserable. I had thought that traveling to a new home would be fun, but it turned out to be a scary process. I went from standing on God’s green earth to sitting on a big, metal, floating contraption (Mommy and Pappy called it a “ferry”). The third person with us was M.T., short for Momma Turtle, my paternal grandmother. She kept putting her finger in my crate and wriggling it at me, so I’d nip her. “Ouch, she bit me,” M.T. (Momma Turtle) would say.

  Once home, things were looking better—lots of furniture to hide under and a yard with fallen leaves to romp in. Now far away from my birth den, my new forever house has nine dog beds, six buckets of toys, countless chow bowls, clothes, costumes, matching collars and leashes, and many dog homes. No dog house for me—only top-of-the-line homes! Mommy and M.T. stayed home with me for my first two weeks, and I continued to nip M.T.’s finger. That finger in my face was an invitation to nip. M.T. would yelp every time, but then she’d promptly forget not to do it again. Mommy explained to me that M.T. has a forgetting problem—it comes with age. Well, I didn’t have much sympathy for her because I had a finger-in-the-face problem, so M.T.
’s yelping continued. Eventually, despite our initial squabbling, M.T. and I became really close. M.T. vibrated with happiness as she played with me. She’d take one of my toys, and I’d plant my paws, put my hiney low to the ground, and yank the toy away with my strong jaws. All that fun was just for me. The world was my stage, and my humans were my new littermates. They loved it—watching me, joyfully drinking in who I am and what I need. Now, humans have needs and wants, but I have needs and needs. One of my needs is to have a routine. Mommy and Pappy needed lots of training learning how to fulfill this need. Don’t be fooled into thinking that routines are set in stone; any routine can be added on to at any given moment. When I was a baby, I had to keep my routines simple at first and slowly build them up so as not to confuse the humans, who have been put on earth to please me. Lucky for me, humans have a vast capacity to learn, and a whack with your paw keeps them focused. It’s a lot of work to keep them focused.

  I also have pet peeves. One thing that especially makes me howl is having to listen to “When I Was a Baby” stories. Even humans have to endure this torture. Mommy and Pappy bug me and my human brother Jimmy with stories of our past. Dogs don’t care much about the past; neither does brother Jimmy. Brother Jimmy is like me: always looking for a good time, with no rules! We bend (if not break) all of Mommy and Pappy’s rules. Brother Jimmy lets me play tug-of-war with my toys—rule number one broken. He lets me sleep in his bed—rule number two broken. He lets me run around with big sticks in my trap—rule number three broken. And he leads me on secret kibble hunts long after chow time is over—rule number four broken. We break a lot of other rules—too many to count—all in good fun, when the rule-makers aren’t looking.

  My first two weeks at home were all about me getting comfortable. I have a big, fenced-in yard that’s like a jungle, complete with crazy critters to chase and steps that trip me no matter if I’m going up or down. The days here are lazy—I sleep a lot on one of my many beds—but I still have challenges in my life. For one, Pappy gets up at 4:00 AM, so I do, too. Our morning routine is pee, poop, and chow. This makes me tired again, so I go back to bed. I cuddle real close to Mommy and then stretch out; before long, she has no covers and is hanging off the bed. Humans can really do a great job balancing their bodies on a small amount of space with a cliff below.