We felt a little confused, visually. We weren't certain that we might be hallucinating. Were there four legs or three?

Yesterday fooled us in other ways. It was an overcast, cold, blustery day, yet it was far brighter than it has been for days. We thought with that brightness surely the sun was out, or initiating emergence, but such was not the case. The day remained overcast, some flurries came down, and it felt damp and cold, yet the day was surprisingly bright.

We were two-thirds through our daily ravine walk, had seen a number of people out, most notably three young adults and with them a surprising number of children. The children colourfully dressed, happy to see our little Riley trundling along in his coat, and appreciative of their environment, poking about here and there, taking their time. There was a bit of a bottleneck in places where the trail is very narrow and juts out over the bank of the creek, but we managed. It was pleasant to see the exuberance and happiness of the children, aged between seven and twelve, both boys and girls, about seven of them altogether.

Eventually they did move on, and we were left to continue at our usual pace, nudging ourselves along the various trails that intersect and make up the wide loop we usually make during our daily ravine perambulations.  Close to the last descent toward the last of the bridges leading up to our final long ascent that leads to the street, suddenly two large dogs appeared, friskily bolting through the snow, bypassing trails with little difficulty since the snowpack, with the sudden appearance of frostier nights had heavily crusted, and amazingly seemed to hold their weight, though they did break through from time to time, and it didn't seem to slow their enthusiastic progress.

They were in a hurry to arrive at where we were, where our toy poodle was frantically yapping at their presence. He had to be scooped up because we don't trust him not to lunge at dogs that he is unfamiliar with. The larger of the two dogs was a yellow Lab mix, the smaller, though not by too much, a Golden Retriever, obviously bosom pals.

But it was the larger dog that was the most fascinating, for his vast curiosity about us, and the yappy little dog in our presence, puzzling this curious dog for his obvious unfriendliness to members of his own canine family, however breed-removed.  The yellow Lab, like her friend, seemed young, probably no more than a year old. She was everywhere at once, her legs a symphony of pumping activity as she weaved and bobbed, ran hither and yon, forward, sideways, off to a cant nearby, then veering directly back to us and exuding friendly sweetness. Allowing me to pat her head, her back, then off again, and back again, as fleet and as steady as any thoroughbred.

What puzzled us, however, was the impression that we glimpsed, occasionally only three legs, not four. And since she would not stand still for more than an absent-minded second in any one place, it was difficult to get a good, positive look, so we felt, because of her confident gait and restless though impeccably stalwart progress that we were wrong; it was an illusion; she must surely have the standard equipment that nature gives all four-footed creatures.

Wrong. This delightful creature was possessed of three legs and the absence of the fourth, on her right front side, seemed to matter not one whit to her. She flew like the wind, even her companion seemed to have trouble maintaining the speed and dexterity that this three-legged dog exhibited. We were almost speechless, but not enough not to manage to express our admiration for this wonderful example of canine determination to the mid-20 couple eventually catching up with their companions.

We wonder if we'll ever see them again, or if this was a truly chance encounter.