Prelude to a Lick

Not an everyday outfit; it's a Brazilian futebol shirt and shorts that Phoebe thought would be fly on Chet, the doggie Pele. He planted his feet and refused to move until he was de-costumed.

Chet Baker had the most marvelous time at the New River Birding and Nature Festival last week. It was his third New River appearance. He was meeter/greeter at Opossum Creek Retreat and he dove into his role. He also took it upon himself to discipline and corral four golden retriever x beagle pups who showed up at Opossum Creek needing food and love. Offisa Pupp rounded them up time and again, then came back to his real job, which is kissing people and sitting on their laps allowing them to massage him. Chet is truly wonderful in a crowd. His love gets spread around enough so that no one person ever gets overwhelmed. But when there's only one guest, he can take the greeting ritual a bit too far.

We’re working on helping Chet Baker be more polite to newly arrived guests, but that sudden spring-loaded French kiss of his is proving hard to quell. He can launch himself from a sitting start straight up in the air four feet and get his tongue waaay into a visitor’s aghast mouth faster than you can say AGGH! Guests settle into two groups: those who like it and laugh uproariously, getting down on their haunches to facilitate the orgy of kisses; and those who make spluttering noises and wipe their mouths with the back of their hands while making an awful tragic-comic face. Kissing is something that Boston terriers do, and they like to kiss right on the lips. Sometimes I wonder if the breed is being actively selected for this trait; they are so devoted to it. Kissing is to Bostons as tolling ducks is to the Duck-tolling Retriever. This behavior is proving intractable doubtless because the kids and I love Chet kisses and ask for them, so how can we help him understand that guests might not?

I will kiss you

And kiss you again.

You may feel free to give advice on this vice of his, as long as you don’t suggest I start clicker training or take him to obedience school, because I’m too lazy for both those things and I pretty much adore him just the way he is. I figure there ought to be a way to switch him to polite mode, but the natural enthusiasm of a Boston terrier for lusty greetings is a force of nature right up there with those geysers that spurt up out of Yellowstone Park every hour on the hour. Ol’ Irrepressible.

While speaking to the Toledo Naturalists’ Association this winter, I had the pleasure of staying with my friend Diane, an insanely smart, capable woman who is looking to launch a new career having something to do with one or both of her twin passions: nature and healthy food. She’s willing to relocate and ready to rock. She’s open to collaboration, has a big dollop of entrepreneurial spirit, and I put this out into the universe because I would like to help her find her joy, and also because she was such a gracious hostess and model for the following little Chetshoot. Leave me a comment at juliezickefoosedotcom if you have ideas for Diane.

Oh, Mether, I hate good-byes. Diane has been so good to us and now we have to go home. I think you are mean to make me leave. She has bunnehs in her backyard who do not yet know how to outsmart me, Chet Baker.

If we must go, I will give Diane a good-bye kiss.

A little one, on the cheek, because we have already met and besides I am sad.

Whut? Doesn’t everyone love Chet Baker kisses?

Mether, cover me up for the long ride home. Know that you will never train the kisses out of me. I was made to love.

Boston Terrier Breed Standard

At long last, a day that got as warm as 40, brilliant sunshine, a rinsed blue sky. I woke up at 3:55 AM with the moonlight streaming in through the blinds, and knew I was not going to go back to sleep. My mind revved up and I couldn't stop it. I knew I'd have to start working on my book proposal. So I got up and went to get my laptop. When I came back Chet was already snoring softly under the covers, making sure the air was perfumed the unique atmospheric enhancement he offers. It was nice to have company.
You can get a whole lot done when you start at 4 AM. I suspect that, like many women my age, I will become conversant with the small hours, as I was when the kids were babies. It's different now, though, because I'm not having the life blood sucked out of me every couple of hours. I don't want to be awake at 4, but I don't seem to have much choice in the matter, so I might as well use it to my advantage.
I worked on the proposal without looking up until 2:30 p.m., and it felt good to focus like that. 31 pages later, it's ready to rock.
The light crept in the windows and it was time to get the kids up and ready for school. I got up and looked out the window. Two fawns were walking in the meadow, looking like solid bits of goldenrod. The snow fell yesterday, 2", just enough to make the road really treacherous for my drive to Athens to record four commentaries. It took me almost 2 hours to get there, and thanks to some technical difficulties getting the hookup to Washington established, I had only 20 minutes to record all four. Since each one runs about three minutes long, it was going to be one take or nothing. There is a zone you get into when you have to get it right, no stumbles. I would imagine professional newscasters are in that zone all the time. So I'm sitting there with headphones on and I can hear my editor in DC coaching me through, asking for different emphasis on this word or that. When we wrapped the last piece, the line went dead and suddenly Susan Stamberg was doing a live interview with a musician in my headphones! Weird! That's how tight studio time is at the Washington NPR studio. You can't be late. And you have to be ready to jump at a moment's notice. But back to bed...
Phoebe came in to get her morning face wash from Baker. It's a ritual. I have a theory that he thinks he needs to clean her up for the new day.
Missed a spot.
Full coverage. My other theory is that Boston terriers are bred primarily for kissability. Perhaps Chet's breeder can corroborate this in the Comments section. I for one am concerned about the extremely short muzzles on show Bostons. This eliminates one vital smooching spot--the stop between forehead and muzzle. I do not approve of stopless Bostons. I also believe that Bostons should weigh about 25 pounds, the size of a good ol' honkin' 10-month-old baby. My personal breed standards are firmly based in the desires of a perimenopausal woman with occasional bouts of inexplicable baby fever. I am content to play with other people's babies. Problem is, there just aren't enough of them around. So Baker has lots of good work to do.His day started at 3:55 AM, too.And he is a hard-working doggie.