Ten years ago, I went kicking and screaming to the Hills of Los Altos from our beloved home near Almond School. I had friends to the right of us, friends to the left – there I was. But then I wasn’t. Up in the Hills, down the long driveway, in our new flag lot on an acre, I was afraid I would never get to know my neighbors that I couldn’t see out my window.
But little by little, the charms of our semirural town of Los Altos Hills have revealed themselves to me. Much of the credit goes to my Portuguese water dogs, first Shasta and now Maverick. Two times a day these friendly, energetic, sweet companions required some kind of exercise, which translates into many hours spent walking around the neighborhood. We met our neighbors, also out walking, driving by or dragging their trash cans to the curb.