Fittingly enough for a Good Friday, yesterday gave us a lovely spring day; open blue skies, relatively mild temperature, and a brisk wind.  On our ravine ramble we came across far more people than we normally would see - usually none - this day, since it was a holiday, and people were at home to use the day for their leisure and perhaps for some, religious introspection.

In fact, we came across a couple we hadn't seen for quite a few years, although we once saw them regularly in the ravine with their white terrier-mix, Sam; a happy and friendly dog they were extremely fond of.  And therein lies a story.

About fifteen years ago people who would see one another regularly walking through the ravine began to speak of the mysterious presence of an unidentified dog.  Glimpses were had of the dog, from time to time, but it would not allow anyone to approach, running off barking as soon as it became aware its presence was noted.  We wondered if it was a stray.  People were asking was anyone posting notice of a lost dog?

And then, because its presence continued, people began to worry about the animal.  How could it, a domestic animal, survive for long on its own?  What could it be eating?  And people began to leave out dog food at various places, hoping the dog would find it to consume it.  It was a truly sad thing to contemplate, a dog on its own, somehow surviving in the midst of a semi-urban community, losing itself in the anonymity of an urban forest.

And then, someone discovered, away over on a remote portion of the ravine readily enough accessed, but not normally travelled, a dog crate and within it an assortment of rumpled and now-dirty blankets.  Obviously, this is where the dog bedded down for the night, and where it sought comfort and safety.  Someone evidently abandoned the animal, leaving it the crate and blankets as a sop to their conscience.

The knowledge of the crate's existence and whereabouts spread, and someone began seriously attempting to befriend the dog bit by bit, leaving out tempting morsels of food, approaching now and again to try to familiarize the dog with their presence.  And eventually succeeding in capturing the dog.  Proceeding then, to adopt it into their family. And that's how Sam, the white terrier-mix, got his companion.

Sam died a few years back at age 16, his human companions told us yesterday.  And the dog they had adopted out of the ravine, had been with them for eleven years.  They said the veterinarian they had taken him to had estimated him to have been two years old at the time.  He, then, died at age 13.  Sam lived a long time for a middling-sized dog, becoming more frail and memory-frazzled as time went on.

They would not think of absorbing another dog into their lives.  But they were out there, walking a small pug, an overweight roly-poly little thing, their daughter's.  Just visiting.