The Shamus Chronicles: Scooter

by Betty Poole

The considerable attention devoted in these memoirs to the temporary residence in my house of horrid Harvey the cat along with his human family, has resulted in the exclusion of an account of the unceasing irritation of a small black canine bundle of activity called "Scooter".

If Scooter were a human she would be described as indomitable. Some might unkindly label her obnoxious. In any event, she is a very strong character, and as is usually the case with human counterparts, there are some that like her and others who don't. Shamus can't make up his mind how he feels about her. After all, she is (or was) a girl, and the melody lingers on for him.

Scooter is small and black, and she has a curled up tail. She is in constant motion, uses every excuse to use her shrill and piercing bark, and she is a party girl. She can't stand life to be quiet and dull, and if there is nothing in particular going on like a trip in the car or a ball game, she turns her attentions to Shamus, and attaches herself to his ear. Shamus in turn gets a silly grin on his face and growls softly. Then a rough-and-tumble all over the living-room carpet ensues until someone ushers them out the door.

Shamus loves a ball game, and unfailingly brings the ball back to be thrown again. It seems kind of mindless, but Shamus will continue ad infinitum when he finds a willing human participant. The fly in the ointment is Scooter. All she wants is to take that ball away from Shamus. She doesn't get the gist of retrieving--she just wants to have it. As a result Shamus has to run extra fast to get the ball, sometimes in his haste even bowling Scooter over.

However, where he makes his mistake is losing his concentration and laying the ball on the ground at my feet. If I happen to be engaged in pulling a weed or admiring a flower, Scooter, who never loses her concentration, pounces on it, leaving Shamus looking pretty stupid. He is too much of a gentleman to take the ball away from her--or maybe he is afraid he can't catch her. In any case, he comes to me with an expectant expression as much as to say--"See, she took it away from me--now you will have to retrieve it." This performance is becoming the norm, and Shamus and I are developing an inferiority complex.

I am looking forward to the day when Scooter and Harvey move into their own house. I am not sure about Shamus. He just might miss Scooter.