Our puppies are now nine months old. There are now relaxing moments with them. Mind, I cannot go anywhere in the house without being immediately tracked by them. They've got to be wherever I happen to be. I take especial pains to ascend the staircase to the second floor, knowing they're fast asleep in the family room. Long before I arrive at my destination they're there, beside me, lapping at my feet.

There was a time not very long ago when they were fearful of descending the stairs to the lower level, and they would stand at the top of the stairs, confused and bemused, murmuring discontent at my disappearance. Now, when I trip the light fantastic down to the basement level they're right there, beside me.

At one time they would seize on anything, to run off with things and attempt to tear them apart between them, items ranging from newly-washed clothing taken out of the dryer, unravelling a toilet paper roll, scrounging under rugs to find the easily-destructible underpad, just anything at all, including clothing, slippers, pens. They would destroy toys we'd bought for them in no time at all.

With the passage of the months they have become infinitely calmer, although still mischief-prone. There are, after all, two of them and they're adept at playing off one another. Now, the one thing that seems to fascinate them are the pens they somehow reach even though I think I've put them out of their way. The springs that they release from the barrel of pens seems like a favourite chew, though they have more than enough rawhide chews to exercise their little jaws with.

They still run about the house ferociously, daring one another to exploits of leaps and bounds, wrestling matches and even boxing tournaments, not to mention biting rounds. Their manoeuvres are quite astounding as they manipulate their bodies to attain superior advantage over each other. Jilly has a habit of ducking under me wherever I happen to be sitting, particularly out in the backyard, inciting Jackie from that vantage point, sliding her little body in and out from under the bench to nip at Jackie who keeps trying to entice her out into the open.

Jackie the Jumper

When they do finally begin their mad dashes in any open spaces, inside or outside the house, running obstacle courses with agility and grace, their dashes are impossible to halt, or to photograph; they become a blur of shadowy black.

But there are times, thankfully now, when they will decide to rest and each will gravitate over to a favourite spot, exclusive of the presence of the other. At night they sleep curled together; during the day they choose to separate.

Jillie the tease

Their language understanding is excellent; their response to sentences like 'let's go into the backyard' elicits an immediate change in direction from front to back. How about dinner isn't necessary since at half-past five every evening they're informing me that I am neglecting their needs if I haven't moved to the kitchen to dole out their dinner.