The other day I had to take the bus.
Now, I almost never take public transit. But this time I did, accompanied by my service dog, wearing his vest exactly as he always does.
What happened?
Nothing.
Not a single question from the driver.
Not a single suspicious look from another passenger.
No interrogation.
No demands for documentation.
No accusations.
No committee meetings.
No legal letters.
No investigations.
No expert reports.
No appeals.
Just a service dog getting on a bus.
The driver saw a service dog and carried on with his day.
The passengers saw a service dog and carried on with theirs.
In other words, everyone behaved like normal human beings.
And it made me think.
For three years I have been involved in litigation over the presence of the very same service dog in my own home.
My own home.
Not a bus.
Not a public space.
Not a crowded transit system.
My home.
A dozen of strangers on Grand River Transit managed to understand the concept of a service dog in approximately three seconds.
Yet somehow a condominium board, property managers, lawyers, investigators, hearings, tribunal proceedings, and appeals required years to wrestle with the same concept.
Three courts and tribunals later, the conclusion was exactly the same one reached instantly by a bus driver on a Tuesday afternoon:
“That’s a service dog.”
Sometimes the simplest experiences are the most revealing.
A public transit system serving thousands of people every day managed what my condominium corporation could not.
No drama.
No conflict.
No litigation.
Just common sense.
Turns out the smoothest accommodation process I have experienced in the last three years happened on a city bus.
