Jellybean: The Pawtobiography of a Wire Fox Terrier

By Eva Patton and Gil Balbuena Jr.

Long ago, Dogma told me and my littermates there comes a time when every puppy must have his very own family. Dogs are loved by people for many reasons, and it is one of the most wonderful things in the entire world when a human pack or family comes to our kennel to find some of its happiness. A puppy is very lucky to be matched up with his own person or family who will love him forever.

With these thoughts, I prayed to Saint Bernard for my very own family. Eventually, they came, and in the fourteen-plus years I shared with them, my life had both wonderful and miserable times. The hardest thing was learning right and wrong. Fortunately, Angelo Wingsandhalo was there to help, and what he said made sense. His archrival, Lucifer Hornsandtail, however, said things that were too good to be ignored.

If I could remember, did I do what was good, or did I have a good time?

I am Jellybean.

This is my story.

Not a word of this is untrue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514408230

Eva Patton

At ten years of age, Eva Patton got her first wire fox terrier, Buzzy, a much-loved pet. Many years later, Jellybean entered her life, and together, they had a good amount of success participating in the American Kennel Club’s activities of dog shows and obedience trials. Jelly also did a good deal of ad and commercial work. Later, agility was an additional dog-and-owner sport performed with an Irish terrier, Tootsie Rose, and another wire fox, Buddy. Both of these dogs competed extremely well. Eva enjoys dogs still, but at a more leisurely pace. Other interests include gardening, writing, and singing Italian arias. She and her husband, David, have traveled from Tasmania to Alaska and greatly enjoy visiting the United Kingdom at least once every year. At home now in South Carolina, the Pattons have two Australian shepherds (go figure) and Harry, an Irish terrier.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Eva Patton.

Library of Congress Control Number:      2015915258

ISBN:    Hardcover         978-1-5144-0825-4

               Softcover          978-1-5144-0824-7

               eBook                978-1-5144-0823-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 09/30/2015

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

717989

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

ONE: EARLY DAYS

TWO: A NEAR CATASTROPHE

THREE: SCHOOL DAYS

FOUR: HISTORY

FIVE: A ROYAL PAIN

SIX: A RUDE AWAKENING

SEVEN: PARTING WAYS

EIGHT: A BROKEN HEART

NINE: THE SECOND TIME AROUND

TEN: GOING HOME

ELEVEN: A NEW LIFE

TWELVE: SETTLING IN

THIRTEEN: A WIRE FOX BY ANY OTHER NAME

FOURTEEN: WAGS AND WISHES

FIFTEEN: CHRISTMAS IS COMING

SIXTEEN: CANINE ACADEMY

SEVENTEEN: GRADUATION DAY

EIGHTEEN: NO CHEESE, PLEASE

NINETEEN: THE INTRUDER

TWENTY: NECESSITY IS THE MOTHER OF INVENTION

TWENTY-ONE: PRINCESS RETURNS

TWENTY-TWO: CURIOSITY, THY NAME IS JELLYBEAN!

TWENTY-THREE: THE MOOING VAN

TWENTY-FOUR: THE TIMBERLINE DRIVE GANG

TWENTY-FIVE: I OUGHTA BE IN PICTURES

TWENTY-SIX: CALAMITY JELLY

TWENTY-SEVEN: THE NOSE KNOWS

TWENTY-EIGHT: TEDDY’S ADVENTURE

TWENTY-NINE: THE SECOND-WORST DAY OF MY LIFE

THIRTY: A LIMOUSINE FOR JELLYBEAN!

THIRTY-ONE: MY BARK MITZVAH

EPILOGUE

INTRODUCTION

Do you have a conscience? Are you ever selfish? Do you listen to and respect your elders? There was a time when I knew all there was to know, even more than my people knew, and it wasn’t very long ago. Things happened, however, to change my mind. Suddenly, my people didn’t look so dumb. What about you? Do you think you are smarter than your elders?

* * *

"You’ve really done it this time, laughed Lucifer Hornsandtail. Even I wouldn’t have thought of something this great and hilarious. What are you going to do? Tell me, oh, please tell me!" Lucifer Hornsandtail kept on and on while bits of his black dust dropped to the ground, and his laughter turned into shrieks. With a sudden pop, he was gone.

Where was Angelo Wingsandhalo? There were so many times I thought he was just a pain and that only his leaving would make me happy. It was unbelievable that on this particular day, of all days, he was nowhere to be found. His kind words of wisdom were needed then more than ever. Life has its ups and downs. I’ve been good, and I admit I’ve been horrid. Most of what had happened involved people who have no sense at all sometimes and can be s-l-o-w to learn. They can be a lot of work too, but they have been good to me. The few times I was peopleless were so sad and full of stress. I prayed to Saint Bernard always to have at least one or two people with me.

Until the day one stinky little squirrel challenged me, life had been pretty darn good. I could still hear Mom’s voice in my head, calling me. She was far away now with Dad and Teddy. I began thinking about the good life I had. Again, I prayed to Saint Bernard that I would find what I had lost.

Trying to remember what led me to this miserable and desperate circumstance was no good because I couldn’t keep my mind in the here and now. It insisted on going back a long time ago. Was Lucifer Hornsandtail so evil he thought my situation was funny? Was this my last day? Recalling years past, my brain whirled faster and faster, and an overwhelming sensation of being in an unending downward spiral overcame me. Everything swirled and became fuzzy; I started to wobble. In a flash, I hit the ground in a dead faint.

My name is JellyBean.

I’m a Wire Fox Terrier.

This is my story.

Not a word of this is untrue.

CHAPTER ONE

EARLY DAYS

717989_FNL_01_copy.tif

Joy and enthusiasm have come down through the genes of my ancestors, and that’s a really good thing. Feeling down is terrible, and only seeing the dark side of life stinks. I know this is true.

I started life at the bottom of the puppy pile. It didn’t suit me, and a change was needed. It wasn’t easy, but finally, I was near Mom’s throat.

Near Mother’s throat, I could feel the tender sounds of her voice as she hummed little songs to us. Her warm and sweet-smelling breath made me relax and have dreams that were filled with visions of milk and biscuits swirling round and round in my head.

Though comforting and secure, this world was dark and silent, but we all nursed heartily and gained strength rapidly. Infant life in the nesting box gave way to toddling about on unsteady legs. Darkness lessened as fuzzy visions of shadows came into focus. Sounds were beginning to come through. Astonishingly, our gummy mouths developed sharp and pointy tiny teeth. Mother never complained, but I knew she was relieved the first morning Mrs. Miller, the owner of our little hobby kennel, came with gruel.

As we grew, exploring and playing in the dog yard advanced our developing senses. Greatly improved sight let us see each blade of grass as well as the clouds in the sky. Our sense of smell became fine-tuned, and we learned that magnolia blossoms were sweet.

Our little noses also brought news and would tell us if someone was coming or if dinner was being cooked down the road. Taste was getting stronger, and we could now tell when a new flavor was added to the gruel. Whether feeling the grass under our paws or bumping into one another as we ran down the hill, touch was fantastic. Our hearing improved, and the songs of birds kept us company throughout the day.

Dash, Stella, Sport, and Winston, the adult dogs in our yard, were usually kind and forgiving when we were noisy and somewhat obnoxious. No doubt they welcomed our nap times, which came frequently during the day and gave them some relief. Happy, exhausting times were the norm.

We marveled at the flower garden and stared as the occasional car came up the drive. At night, we snuggled up to Mother in the straw bed, which was always fresh and clean, in the little mudroom near the back porch in Mrs. Miller’s house. We’d fall asleep almost instantly as the stars came out and the night’s symphony of frogs and crickets began.

Life was a joyful celebration, until a door was left open.

CHAPTER TWO

A NEAR CATASTROPHE

717989_FNL_02.tif

Mrs. Miller’s Siamese cats occupied the opposite end of the house and had nothing to do with our little neighborhood. Those darned silly felines, Dogma, our mother, would say when we heard their cries. They do nothing but sun themselves and live to be scratched all their lives. What a waste!

But, Mother, don’t they catch mice and keep rats away from this house? I asked.

"That’s a good one," Mother laughed. "I don’t think I’ve known any of that pack to exert himself over anything. Catch mice? They do every now and again but usually play with the creatures and only scare them into near death. Oh no, those cats want nothing to eat but the best store-bought food, preferably hand-fed. Indeed, it’s a good thing they have brains enough to keep out of here. Useless creatures!"

One never had to guess what Mother was thinking. Anyway, we had no relationship with these cats, that is, until the day one of our human family accidentally left a door ajar. When I got a bit older, a door left slightly open was a most welcome diversion, a time of high adventure, one of which we took full advantage. Young pups, however, can be easily scared by something as stealthy and ill-tempered as a Siamese tom.

Catch me if you can, my brother, Skipper, would bark at us. A great game of tag would follow as my two sisters and I fled down the hill in hot pursuit. There were lots of toys too. These toys were the most fun. They had been in our yard long before we were there. They had been played with by puppies that had come before us. A really neat one was a red ball that made a first-class jingling sound whenever it was tossed or pushed in any direction.

Apparently, Mr. Tom agreed. Mr. Tom was the biggest of the Siamese males. Unknown to us, he was lurking above in the magnolia tree, waiting for the ball to land underneath so he could make his move and lay claim to it. Back and forth and back and forth, we ran, chasing, pushing, leaping, and in general, having the time of our young lives!

I’ve got it! yelped my brother.

Noooo, you don’t! screeched my sister Princess in a tone that could pierce your eardrums. It gave me great pleasure seeing her tumble onto her fuzzy behind. I then made a grab for the toy as it bounced and jingled away. Little Violet, the quiet one of our quartet, mostly looked on, but she did cheer for me. Seldom was the ball away from any of us, under the magnolia or not; one of us always had it. Eventually, however, even a Siamese would run out of patience, and so it happened that my brother, Skipper, while displaying his male prowess, dominating the red jingle ball, had the sky fall on him! The sky on that day took the form of a screeching, clawing Siamese tomcat!

Mer-ooow-aaah! The cat came shrieking down upon my brother! The rest of us were too little and too bewildered to do anything. There was the cat on top of poor Skipper, determined to get that jingle-maker. There was Skipper, just as determined not to let Tom have it. My little booger brother had more fight in him than I would have imagined.

The puppy growling, and the cat, shrieking, became absolutely feral, but mixed with the horror of it was the growing sensation that this was a spectator’s delight: screeching, clawing, growling, and all that motion! What a sight! The dust was rising. The jingling was somewhat muffled by the two entangled bodies. Other dogs gathered to witness the spectacle, and several Siamese perched on the roof and in the trees to bear witness as well. Violet, Princess, and I were frozen in fear and shock.

Bam! A great slamming sound came from the house. Dogma had been napping just inside the back porch. She head-butted the screen door and rocketed with ferocity toward Skipper and Mr. Tom, obviously showing no signs of fear or shock.

YOU DON’T BELONG HERE, YOU FOUL THING! Dogma growled at the top of her lungs, baring her fangs at Tom. Everyone froze. It was eerily silent. Not a bark, not a meow, not a chirp was heard.

Siamese, you may know, are many things. Some believe they are beautiful. Some think they are intelligent; go figure. Some think these cats are selfish. I agree. One thing they do not lack, however, is common sense. It took Mr. Tom barely a second to realize he would be fortunate to escape unscathed from the fury of a mother Wire Fox Terrier. The jingle ball simply wasn’t worth the battle that was hurling itself toward him. Tom adroitly shot away, like a speeding bullet, clawing his way up the magnolia tree. He stopped long enough to glance back at Mother and, with hatred in his squinted eyes, gave a low long feline growl and disappeared over the rooftop.

Need