I don't quite recall noticing her before this afternoon, but the chocolate lab and we came across one another when we were halfway through our walk in the ravine. Of course, she wasn't alone, she was with her mistress, a woman advanced in years and like me well bundled against the icy atmosphere; cold, not quite as cold as yesterday at minus-7C, but there was no sun today and there is a stiff wind, so it's as well to be snugly clad.

As my husband and the woman became engrossed in conversation, Bailey and I got to know one another. Bailey is thirteen, and amazingly energetic for her age, given her breed. She's on a special medication that costs $200 a month, not cheap to keep an ageing dog frisky. It's a pain killer for dogs suffering from arthritis, and Bailey does have arthritis. She also has quite a few lipomas. One right on her muzzle giving her a lopsided appearance, which her gentle, inquisitive eyes correct very nicely. Others on her legs, her body; they're not very large, but they are quite visible.

Her once-glossy coat is not quite as smooth as it must once have been. It is slightly dishevelled in appearance, but perhaps my view is now more sympathetic than it once might have been; with our own two little poodles it is entirely possible I was more or less oblivious to many of the dogs we've so often seen in the ravine. Bailey was experiencing some difficulties on the many icy portions of the trails, slipping occasionally, once right over on her side, but she was quick to right herself, and took pains to try to avoid the icy areas when she could.

Bailey is somewhat memorable for me because she was happy to walk alongside me. I was attractive to her as a source of peanuts, and Bailey obviously loves peanuts. Her companion said she has an iron constitution and she lets her eat anything she likes. I'll bet she does; when Button was into her 19th year I'd cook a tiny portion of egg for her in the morning, because she loved eggs. She adored bacon and I'd give her that, too. Along with a bit of cooked potato when we were having them.

Above all, she had to have her raw vegetable salad to complete her evening meal. And, oh yes, daily helpings of chicken that had gone into the pot when I made chicken soup. Chicken bits sprinkled over her kibble. When it came to mealtime she was ecstatic; Riley a bit more fastidious, but eager enough for the same types of foodstuffs usually verbotten, minus potatoes and a few other items Button craved.

Bailey nosed about, alongside me, in those places where I regularly deposit peanuts for the ravine squirrels that she could reach, and retrieved the peanuts. Where she wasn't able to avail herself of the peanuts, she waited patiently for me to give her one in compensation. She was a very pleasant, albeit temporary companion.