I have a memory of a family trip to visit friends in Windsor one summer and while there, driving over the bridge to Detroit for a final lunch. On the way back along the freeway I spotted a dog on the median between the lanes of traffic running frantically back and forth as cars sped …

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Crawling along the 401 at rush hour with my three nine-year-olds, I found myself beside a transport truck full of cows heading to slaughter. While my twins have become used to seeing these trucks on the road, my stepdaughter was in shock. “What is it?” she shouted, sensing unease in the car. My daughter answered …

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