Last Christmas, my partner Chris and I decided that, after years of pining and semi-weekly “just for fun!” Humane Society visits, we would finally take the plunge and get our first dog. We promised ourselves we would take it slow and really consider our options before we adopted our new baby—we certainly didn’t want to rush into anything.

And then, of course, six days later we went to buy cat food at a Petsmart where a rescue group happened to have set up shop for the afternoon*, and we fell in love with the very first puppy we saw.

Zozo was a 25 pound lab/husky/who-the-hell-knows mix with speckled feet, a white star across his chest, and one of the most mellow temperaments I’d ever encountered in a four month old dog. The rescue said he would probably top out around 70 pounds, and might need “a little” more exercise than your typical puppy because of his size. Both of these things were wild underestimates, but we love him very much anyway.

As a Strong Towns advocate, I believe one of the most powerful things you do can do to make your neighborhood financially stronger is to simply take a walk and keep an eye out for places where you can make a small bet. But getting Zozo took my daily walking habit to a whole new level—and not just because Chris and I now spend a collective two hours a day tromping around our neighborhood with a sniffy little goblin. Here are four ways that walking your dog—or a loaner pup from your local rescue group—can give you a unique insight into how your place can get a little more resilient.

1. Welcoming Human Disorder—and Canine Disorder.

Strong Towns introduced me to the concept of “forgiving design”—and the idea that our neighborhood streets should be designed to forgive pedestrian and cyclist mistakes (which aren’t likely to kill anyone) far more than they’re designed to forgive driver mistakes (which do tend to kill people). When you design a neighborhood street with a deep shoulder and a narrow sidewalk with no trees, for instance, your design forgives the occasional driver who gets distracted by his cell phone and veers out of his lane; he’ll only strike the curb, and likely survive his crash. But that design is not so forgiving to the pedestrian who happens to be walking on the sidewalk just as the distracted driver comes barreling towards her, with no barrier in between them.

Human disorder is a fact of life, whether it happens behind the wheel or on foot. And at Strong Towns, we argue that welcoming the pedestrian variety of chaos actually makes our towns safer and stronger—and inducing drivers to slow down and pay attention in a slightly disorderly environment can save motorist lives, too.