Walking to the bus stop is a ritual for us, when the weather is nice enough to permit it. Liam always wants to walk, no matter what. He likes the extra time, the smell of wet leaves, the chance to run around and around.
This year, the district clamped down on a lot of stuff that was going on on the school buses. And one of the new rules was: No animals on the bus. This broke a four-year tradition of letting Chet Baker on the bus to greet his beloved chirrun each morning. There is another new rule: No pencils on the bus. Which means the kids don't have a chance to do their homework on the ride. You might poke your eye out!!Please.
When he was a pup (which, in Bostons, lasts somewhere into Year Three), Chet needed a leash. Period. Without it, he'd get up on the seat, sit down and say, "Take me to the school. There are more chirrun there who need their faces washed."
Here comes the bes. I love it when the bes comes.
I still kept him on a leash in Year Four, but I stopped holding it. In fact, when he was done greeting all the kids, he'd pick up one end of it and take himself off the bus, romping back down the lane to home. Watching him decide that the session was over, pick the leash up in his teeth, turn his back on the outstretched hands of the children, and get off the bus always amused bus driver Sue so much. "He's done!" she'd say, and we'd both laugh.
By Year Five, we could dispense with both the leash and the collar, and Chet was completely cool. And then came The Rule Change, and poor Chet was no longer allowed to greet the chirrun. Back came the leash, for a short time, until he understood that these humans, in all their capricious wisdom, suddenly decided that his beloved ritual was not to be. I think he understands that it wasn't my choice. I think he knows the meaning of "I'm sorry, Chetty."
I am proud to say that little Chet Baker, at five, is now self-policing where the bus is concerned. He just needs to be reminded with a quiet "Stay."
Any of you who own Boston terriers will understand my pride in this fact. Boston terriers have SO much wiggly love to give that it is very, very hard for them to resist rushing up to every human they see and giving them a thorough tongue-lashing.
And Chet especially loves children. It's hard for him to let Liam get on that bus alone.
When he was a pup (which, in Bostons, lasts somewhere into Year Three), Chet needed a leash. Period. Without it, he'd get up on the seat, sit down and say, "Take me to the school. There are more chirrun there who need their faces washed."
Here comes the bes. I love it when the bes comes.I still kept him on a leash in Year Four, but I stopped holding it. In fact, when he was done greeting all the kids, he'd pick up one end of it and take himself off the bus, romping back down the lane to home. Watching him decide that the session was over, pick the leash up in his teeth, turn his back on the outstretched hands of the children, and get off the bus always amused bus driver Sue so much. "He's done!" she'd say, and we'd both laugh.
By Year Five, we could dispense with both the leash and the collar, and Chet was completely cool. And then came The Rule Change, and poor Chet was no longer allowed to greet the chirrun. Back came the leash, for a short time, until he understood that these humans, in all their capricious wisdom, suddenly decided that his beloved ritual was not to be. I think he understands that it wasn't my choice. I think he knows the meaning of "I'm sorry, Chetty."
I am proud to say that little Chet Baker, at five, is now self-policing where the bus is concerned. He just needs to be reminded with a quiet "Stay."
Any of you who own Boston terriers will understand my pride in this fact. Boston terriers have SO much wiggly love to give that it is very, very hard for them to resist rushing up to every human they see and giving them a thorough tongue-lashing.
And Chet especially loves children. It's hard for him to let Liam get on that bus alone.
(Please note the adorable strip of white on the back of his head). God done dipped his paintbrush one last time.
The ultimate test: one of his little friends lowers the window and hollers, "Here Chet!! Come here, Chet!!"
To my great amusement, Chet responded not by rushing to the bus, but by roo-roo-rooing at her until it pulled away.
I cannot come to the bes, little girl! They will not let me! So do not tempt me! You are being very bad, very very bad! Roo roo roo roo!
Good dog, Chet. All you with exuberant young Boston terriers, take heart. It gets easier, much easier.
The ultimate test: one of his little friends lowers the window and hollers, "Here Chet!! Come here, Chet!!"
To my great amusement, Chet responded not by rushing to the bus, but by roo-roo-rooing at her until it pulled away.
I cannot come to the bes, little girl! They will not let me! So do not tempt me! You are being very bad, very very bad! Roo roo roo roo!
Good dog, Chet. All you with exuberant young Boston terriers, take heart. It gets easier, much easier.
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