18/03/2026
Pawblems on the footpath
Lokhandwala gives Axl, the dramatic husky plenty to sniff, leap over and strut through, even as garbage, construction and civic chaos crowd the pavement For me, morning patrol begins the moment the leash clicks. The lane outside the building seems calm, as always. It is a residential stretch, the sort that allows a four-legged family member to ease into his walk with dignity. But that mood changes almost immediately. The first curb greets me with giant garbage bags packed with restaurant waste from the previous night, dumped squarely on the footpath. Look, for me, that is not altogether unpleasant. It is a buffet of information, the way I see it.
Garbage bags carry stories. Chicken bones, sauces, leftovers, unfamiliar spices. I pause for what my human calls an unnecessary amount of sniffspection. I call it quality reporting. The garbage continues along the route. Wrappers, scraps and stray objects appear every few steps, each worth investigating. The roads themselves look like they had a long evening too, stained with paan and wet patches from leaking garbage bags that have recently been hauled away. Some pockets smell stronger than others, which naturally slows my walk down considerably. Sniff this, smell that. Eww, some bits are too much even for my forgiving nose.
Obstacles appear early Not far along the path, abandoned furniture occupies sections of the pavement. Chairs and broken pieces sit where I am meant to pass. This is not a fun obstacle course. I usually enjoy those, but this feels dangerous. I will be fine, I am designed to dodge this sort of stuff, but what of little people. They could risk serious injury here. That is not a happy thought. Near the small Nana Nani Park, a bamboo framework suddenly appears across the path, forcing us to zigzag around it. A little further ahead, police barricades lie abandoned on the side of the road. I give them a suspicious sniff. They smell like dust, tyres and several confused humans. Then the ground starts changing under my paws. Suddenly the road feels like it has been split in two. One side is normal. The other side is hidden behind torn green mesh sheets covering construction work that looks like it forgot to finish. Gravel, loose tiles and uneven stones appear everywhere. Now this is more like it. I hop up, trot across, test each patch with my paws and keep moving. If this were an agility course I would be winning. Humans, meanwhile, slow down and stare nervously at the ground. Then comes a moment where even I pause. Broken glass glints on the pavement. My nose tells me to investigate, but my paws tell me to step carefully. Even a dramatic husky has limits.
Further ahead, huge metal things â apparently Metro construction equipment â sit right in the middle of the road. They are enormous. So enormous that the road now must squeeze around them. Cars inch past, people shuffle through gaps, and the footpath becomes strangely difficult to reach. Some of the spaces around these giant objects have become little hiding spots where humans seem to be living. I sniff everything, obviously. That is my job. Even when the pavement looks perfectly fine, it suddenly betrays you. Open manholes appear without warning, iron rods poking out in odd directions like metal porcupines. My human steps off the footpath, back onto the road, then up again a few steps later. It becomes a strange dance. There are also bent metal barriers scattered along the edge of the path. They look like they once had a purpose but have now given up entirely. I politely move on. Soon the road itself narrows. Entire sections have been dug up and loosely covered with dirty tarps and construction equipment. Humans are pushed onto the road with the cars and buses. I stay close to my human here. Traffic does not understand dramatic huskies. Then another obstacle appears. Stacks of plastic tubes have claimed the entire footpath. No passing through. Humans step onto the road again. I follow, tail high, pretending this was the plan all along. Further along, plant vendors occupy long stretches of the pavement with rows of leafy green pots. I approve of the plants. Many excellent smells. But walking space becomes very tight.
Then, suddenly, the neighbourhood redeems itself. Parts of the Lokhandwala backroad stretch are actually wonderful. Wide, even tiles. Smooth ground. Space to walk properly. My paws relax. My stride becomes elegant again. This is what a morning patrol should feel like.
But just when things get comfortable, the pavement disappears again under gravel, debris or construction leftovers. The walk never quite settles. Still, for a husky with a curious nose and steady paws, the patrol remains interesting. Garbage to sniff. Obstacles to leap. New smells every few metres. Honestly, I have had worse mornings.
