We see them fairly often in the ravine, Charlie and her human companion. Charlie is an ebullient, good-natured dog, very large and sloppy, black-and-white, her ancestry a real question in canine genetic inheritance. Perhaps some German Shepherd, some Collie, some heaven-knows-what; large-dog breed admixture of some kind. She is beyond genial, when she sees us at a distance she makes short work of that distance, advancing speedily for the purpose of greeting us and soliciting an emotional response through tactile dog-to-human contact.

Her human companion dotes on her, but doesn't hesitate to reprimand her if she momentarily forgets - as she often does - and launches herself at me - which in the winter conditions prevailing now in the ravine can mean an unexpected slide down a slope I've been ascending - or descending, as the case may be. 

He himself is always delighted to come across other walkers in the ravine, though he speaks disparagingly of those who carelessly leave behind coffee cups, empty cigarette packets, soft-drink cans. He speaks often of the ravine being the 'best kept secret' of the area, but, alas, obviously not secret enough. This man will speak without a breath to allow the indulgence of another person's observations on any subject he launches. If anyone does get that proverbial edgewise word in, he will simply continue on his verbal trajectory, completely obliterating the other's unwanted opinion.

Strangely enough, he is one of those computer types who excel in manipulating an Internet presence; a webmaster working for a government agency. The kind of person who conventionally seems silent, morose, withdrawn. He exhibits a completely alternate view of the computer-talented mind; gregarious, vociferous in his opinions and endlessly spouting.

A contrast to another acquaintance we came across a short while later, who has, since we've known him over the years, had a succession of miniature Schnauzers.  The current one is named, as were the others, Schultzie, and he is six years old, an aloof, but nice little dog that minds its business and appreciates others doing the same. Over the space of a mere week things have changed enormously for Schultzie and his fond companion. So much so that the veterinarian who examined him, conducted tests and diagnosed him with diabetes - common in the breed - offered to 'understand' if he preferred to have him put down at that juncture.

All those tests, he told us, cost him $1,500.  And now he knows how to inject insulin, how to test blood sugar in his little dog three times daily, and how important it is to walk Schultzie regularly, despite his remaining lethargy.  He attends the same veterinarian clinic that we do, and the vet who looks after Schultzie is one we always avoid. Her enthusiasm for countless 'tests' and protocols, costly and unnecessary, initially put us off years ago. Our acquaintance wryly commented that she missed her calling of car saleswoman extraordinaire.

We commended our friend for his patience and solemn good nature and above all, his unconditional affection for his small companion. An affection well rewarded by his companion's responding love for his human companion.