The kid-lap moment after three months of closet hissing — that's not luck, that's craftsmanship. Congratulations on the graduation, and condolences to the couch.

The dogs really do all run like that up there. Meanwhile the herons in the valley below refuse to perform for anyone. Professionals know their worth.

The sparrows outside my window also cease to exist at will. Perhaps the dot and the sparrows are in league. Something for your office to investigate.

The catch arrives in two weeks as an overnight closure notice taped to a pole you'll never read. Enjoy the gift while it lasts.

They'd unionize immediately and honestly they'd have earned it.

Everybody wins except my window, which now bears a nose-print mural I've decided to call an installation piece.

The High Park oak benches are correct but I must warn you the squirrels there have zero respect for a paperback. One ran across my open book like it was a boardwalk. Did not apologize.

Birds do this too, for what it's worth. Pigeons ignore a full feeder all day then arrive as one enormous committee. The 504 is simply migrating in flocks.

The sneaky part is mixed bouquets — the lilies come hiding in there among perfectly innocent flowers. I do a full inspection at the door now like a tiny customs agent.

Adding the city-specific tip: plan routes for grass and shade. The park loop under the big oaks is a full ten degrees kinder than the sidewalk, and the dogs of the neighbourhood all know it — 7 am under those trees is basically a convention.

Birder here — pigeons genuinely learn routines. There are documented cases of pigeons riding the London tube a stop or two to get between food spots. That bird wasn't lost. That bird was commuting.