He hasn't lived in the neighbourhood for very long. The first time our paths crossed was perhaps a year or two ago. And although we haven't seen him very often, we were struck by his friendliness. He has a very large-breed dog to which he is quite devoted. Not his first of the breed, the earlier one died when it was only three and a half years old, stricken by some malady that often affects such dogs. The current one is just under a year old, still a puppy and massive.

It's a Bernese Mountain dog, a bit restrained in its attitude, not the kind of rumbling friendliness say for example, of a Lab or a Retriever, two breeds we see far more often being walked in the ravine. And just as well, obviously.  I would imagine it might be difficult to control such a gargantuan beast if it felt like being stubborn at any given time. Our friendly neighbour seems to have no problems in that direction.

It seems fitting that this young man, who towers over us, like a friendly giant, would love this breed, and he does. The dog fits the human, as we've often discovered for ourselves. And as I mentioned, we've had only a few encounters with this particular dog-and-man in the ravine, but stopped each time to chat, as people are wont to do who think highly of dogs.

A few days ago he came knocking at our front door. I've no idea how he knows where we live. He had informed us that he lives on the street behind us, and likely we casually mentioned we live on the street behind him. But there he was, tall and imposing, a very nice young man, and behind him was the dog, sitting majestically and obediently on the porch. Jack and Jill were energized at the presence of the dog, but as they leaped about on the porch, back and forth into the house, they were careful to keep a little distance. The size differential can be intimidating.

The occasion of the visit was to explain to my husband that he was going off on a trip to Uruguay. His wife would not be accompanying him, but remaining behind at home with their two young children. His relatives, he said, had moved from Germany and emigrated to Uruguay quite a while ago, because he said, they felt discriminated against as Mennonites and found comfort in Uruguay. He was planning to visit for a few weeks with his relatives.

Would we be agreeable to walking his dog in the ravine in his absence? Undoubtedly he cannot have been aware that we now have two very small puppies. But even as he proposed entrusting his dog with us for walks, there were our two little black rascals cavorting about. When we'd seen him before we had Riley with us, our older little dog, same breed as our puppies; toy poodles. My husband, because we always like to be obliging, felt badly to have to pass on the opportunity to help someone out, explained that we and the puppies would find it enormously difficult to walk his gentle giant at a time when our own minuscule-by-comparison companions are just learning how to walk on leash and any distractions would be most unhelpful to the process, to put it mildly.

Then, asking if we knew anyone who might be interested, we recommended Suzanne who lives down the street and who most definitely is a dog-lover, who since she lost her own Golden Retriever fifteen years ago has made it a part of her life to walk other peoples' dogs, though none of them have ever approached the size of the Bernese Mountain Dog.