In many small Alberta towns, there is virtually no serious effort put into bylaw enforcement.
Rural communities tend to rely on residents’ good graces and a common desire to keep the peace.
Most of the time, folks get a long just fine.
And isn’t that a big part of what small-town living is all about — living a little bit outside the direct supervision of government and law enforcement?
When I was working as reporter covering city politics for the Lloydminster Meridian Booster, a handful of angry residents addressed council to state their case on snow shovelling.
The group of grumpy grey-hairs declared that they were fed up with lazy neighbours who were neglecting to shovel the sidewalks in front of their property during the winter months.
The city had a seldom-enforced snow-shovelling bylaw on the books that required property owners to clear their sidewalks after a snowfall, but nobody on council could remember the last time a warning or fine had been issued.
The pro-shovelling committee recommended that city council drastically raise penalties and get serious about forcing people get out and shovel snow.
The mayor and council listened as each resident shared details of their harrowing encounters with icy, snow-laden sidewalks.
As I listened, I too became convinced that cracking down and raising fines was the only reasonable solution to the problem.
But what the mayor said next instantly changed my view of the situation.
“I have never liked the idea of slapping people with fines when a friendly phone call might just as easily get the message across,” he told the group.
Always a proponent of maintaining his city’s ‘small-town feel,’ the mayor of Lloydminster wished to avoid the heavy-handed approach in dealing with a relatively minor problem.
In the end, the city issued a few friendly reminders but, to my knowledge, never embarked on any sort of mandatory snow-shovelling crackdown.
By addressing the problem like neighbours rather than politicians, the city managed to preserve a little piece of that small-town identity the mayor was always raving about.
On Monday, a group of dog owners called on Red Deer’s city council to reduce fines for pets caught wandering without a leash.
Mark Yarbar and his wife, who collected 33 signatures on a petition to lower fines, asked the city to review its bylaw, which maintains a $250 penalty for a first-time offence and subsequent penalties of $500 and $750 for repeat offences — among the highest in the province.
The city agreed to review fine amounts, the wording of the bylaw, the signs in off-leash areas, and the city’s administrative review process for when dog owners dispute a penalty.
I’ve often heard it said that Red Deer is one of those rare cities that has managed to maintain a small-town spirit, despite its rapid rate of growth.
As far as cities go, Red Deer is among the most friendly, easy-going places I’ve encountered (except for the overzealous downtown parking patrol, but that’s a column for another day).
As Red Deer continues to grow, so too will the list of rules and regulations we must abide by. But it is my hope that our council will do everything possible to hold onto the last remaining shadows of Red Deer’s small-town Prairie roots.
I can’t imagine any little town anywhere fining somebody $750 for something as paltry allowing a dog to roam without a leash.
So, are we or are we not a city with a small-town heart? Do we handle every problem with harsh fines and penalties, or do we opt for a softer, more personal approach when possible?
This little dog-leash debate — almost laughable at first glance — stands out as one of those seemingly insignificant matters that speaks volumes about the kind of community we will become going forward.
Leo Paré is the Advocate’s online editor. Follow him on Twitter — www.twitter.com/LeoPare