Boy and Dog pass our place around my breakfast time – summer, autumn, winter, spring. It’s been happening for about two years, maybe even longer. The school uniform-clad boy has grown taller -the terrier hasn’t changed much at all.

I often wonder whether he volunteers to walk the family pet or does it as part of his chores. It looks like a love job though.

For almost as long as I’ve been talking about Boy and Dog, our eldest child has been begging to walk our pooch by herself. We have hesitated because our dog is – if she was a child she’d be called – spirited.

Twelve years ago I took our spirited labradoodle to puppy preschool for treats – I mean socialisation – and then on to Albury Kennel Club for more treats – rather extra socialisation and obedience training. When the dog trainer insisted I speak up, I followed orders to the letter.

“SSS-IT!” I barked the command, which echoed across the dewy, grassed course.

Every dog within a two-block radius promptly planted its backside trackside as my girl cowered behind my legs and shot me a look to say, “You scared the bejeesus out of me, don’t ever do that again.”

Happy that we managed to get “heel” down pat by the end of term, we retired with our tails between our legs.

Now our sprightly labradoodle is 13, she still has a little spring in her step. This month we felt the time was right to road test our nine-year-old walking the dog on the lead solo. She has exercised the dog with us plenty so she knew to walk her on her left side, using the command “heel” to keep her in step. Heel to toe alignment, of sorts.

We issued her with a plastic bag to collect our pooch's poo, which had to be part of the perimeters for the solo trek.

“Scoop and turn the bag inside-out, voila!” I demonstrated.

“#awesomeness," she replied, deadpan.

After some final advice on safety houses on this pre-approved route and instructions on never to break up a dog fight should a stray turn up, she was off.

As she rounded the first corner away from our street, my husband said: “I should follow them.”

“Absolutely!” I said, “But, whatever you do, don’t let her see you.”

It was a deja vu moment. Big time. The first day my husband put her on the school bus when she was in kindergarten (albeit term three), he came home with the same idea.

“I probably should have kept going and followed the bus to the school gates.”

“Hurry!” I backed that idea pronto with the same proviso here: “Don’t let her see you hanging out the front of the school!”

Back to the future, my husband watched her turn the next corner before he returned home. I asked for a score update.

Poops scooped: 1, other incidents: 0

Suddenly we heard a pack of dogs barking. My heart sank until I remembered it was likely she had passed the house at the top of our street where the dogs routinely bark, setting off a chain reaction. My husband and I faffed about doing fake jobs in the front garden until we saw her in the distance. Within three minutes she was home.

“Oh, look at you two,” she smirked, “Pretending to be gardening."

Our eldest is halfway to 18 and there is only one thing about which I’m certain. You can look out for them all you want, but you’ve got to let them go solo sometimes.

Boy and Dog have walked by this morning, that always puts a spring in my step.