Our street isn't that great for dog walking.
When we moved into our house 25 years ago, the traffic wasn't bad. Now, our corner is like like a loop on the Daytona 500. A favourite trick of young hoodlums is to achieve maximum speed while turning navigating the turn.
So... it's not so great for walking Ollie the Pug.
I've taken to walking a few blocks to a quieter neighborhood. In fact, it's a superior one. Because we walk there frequently, some of the neighbours have even gotten to know us.
One couple hugs Ollie and occasionally — to his huge delight — offers him tiny dried silver fish. Then there's a very pleasant retired fellow who puts out water dishes for the neighbourhood dogs. He likes to tell me about his lawn bowling adventures, which are quite interesting.
Such encounters are infinitely preferable to playing automotive dodge-'em in my neck of the woods. I think of the our preferred dog walking area as a "parallel neighbourhood". It's like ours... only much, much better.
I'm now considering walking Ollie the Pug in Oak Bay. Or maybe the Uplands. Who knows what delights might lie in wait in such neighbourhoods? Perhaps Ollie will be fed fois gras. And yours truly will be offered single-malt scotch. Maybe even a Cuban cigar.
I must look into this immediately.