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.
16 comments:
Ah, Chet Baker. How you gladden our hearts. Please live forever.
your #1 fan,
Wendi
It's great to see a child that loves to run. These days, there's much lamenting and speculating about the loss of that love in grownups.
What a totally asinine decision. I'm so sure that they have to fight off dozens of dogs each day (eyeroll). And pencils? So how do the kids get theirs to school now, if they can't take them on the bus?
PS. Our old black Lab followed our boys on the bus more than once. The kids loved it.
As the proud mother of a 15-month-old whilrling dervish named Scout, I appreciate your concluding affirmation. Because right now she breakdances with each and every interaction.
The capacity of dogs to love is immeasurable.
One time my neighbours had a dog who loved to play hockey. He was the goal tender. In winter when he saw the bus bringing the kids home, he would wait and when they got off the bus he would run immediately to the pond and get in the net, ready to play.
Bes-loving Chet is the bes!
Silly humans and their ridiculous rules. I feel bad for Chet, and bad for the kids who won't get their face washings.
Every Boston I have ever met has had a great joie de vivre(?) and an unstoppable urge to kiss the peoples, all of them.
If I was going to get a dog, it'd probably be a Boston. I also appreciate their nuttiness!
Just the title alone was enough for me. ("Mature" Bostons...chortle)
I smell an oxymoron.
I love that you commented on the little bit of white on the back of Chet's head. Our Boston, Tug, has a tip of white on his left ear, and it's nearly my favorite part of him!
I despise p.c. and cowardice in the bureaucracy.
Sit! Don't stand up, you might fall.
Walk. Don't run you might trip.
Don't read. You might strain your eyes or drop the book on your foot.
Don't try, you might fail, or worse, succeed.
Don't, don't don't ... you can't, you can't....no, no, no...
I stood, I ran, I read, I tried, I failed and succeeded and some how I survived.
Fire the fools who make stupid rules. How about some common sense?
Unfortunately, common sense isn't very common.
Touched a sore spot there Julie. Bah, humbug!
I completely agree with RR (above) and after all is said and done, are we allowed to have some fun? Probably not.
So Sue me.
I'm sure CB knows it's not your rules he must abide by because he has learned that you have more sense than to ask him not to greet the chirrun.
Julie, the 4th photo tugged at my heartstrings... But it isn't fair, mether!
He is a very obedient puppeh; however, I'd like to know just how mature can a Boston be? Huh? LOL!
No pencils on the bus???? Now that is definitely a best practice for schools. I guess they could be used as a weapon, but they can be used as a weapon in the classroom, as well. Heaven forbid that a school might encourage kids to be proactive ( our new buzz word) and do their homework on the bus ride home instead of having nothing to do and be reactive ( another new buzz word ) towards one another. We in education just don't get it sometimes. I am glad that your are more mature Chet than some of the administrators in your school district
ARRRGGGHHH! I would never make it as a mother in this day and age. My father was a bus driver and allowed a lot more than he should have but no child was ever harmed in any way in his care. HE would have let Chetty on the bus, even if they told him he couldn't, then he would put his finger up to his lips and say "our little secret". We have created a confounding nanny society. Love the blog though. Keep it up Ms Julie.
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