He's a very nice fellow, someone we've known for many years as a ravine walker, once an engineer with Bell Canada and now long retired. His former dog was crotchety and getting along in age when Button and Riley were in their own deep maturity. His present dog, a Kerry-blue terrier, is a quietly, furtively, bumptious, obnoxious dog with a tendency to leap up on people, and although he hauls it off, at every opportunity it will repeat and be a general nuisance. The dog's name is Rufus and my husband has renamed him Dufus.

It's been at least twenty years since we last saw his wife out in the ravine. We'd first become acquainted with her, then her husband, and her two boys, both of whom are now local paramedics on ambulance crews. She's just undergone hip replacement surgery and with luck she'll be sufficiently improved to be able to do things she hasn't been able to manage physically for many years. We've another close ravine acquaintance whose surgery has made a mountain of difference to him. One of our long-time street neighbours has also just undergone similar surgery.

We're a community of retirees, it seems, with age and genetic inheritance taking its toll. Rufus-Dubus also takes his toll on our receptivity of his presence around little Jack and Jill. He terrorizes them. Sniffing them out assiduously at first, and then clumsily attempting to corner and mount them. Our friend hauls him off, and he repeats the performance, so in deference to Jack and Jill's well-being, we are now inclined to cut our congenial conversations short as much as possible, to enable us to move on -- and as we do, we're followed, of course, by Rufus-Dufus, who, when we pick up our two, will simply leap on us with his considerable weight, to get at each of them.

Contrast that to the large dogs we so often come upon, familiar to all of us, whom Jack and Jill are delighted to see, happy to greet and nuzzle briefly with, some of them tolerant and even inviting that contact, others preferring to avoid it, but never posing any measure of threat in the process. So, they're learning their lessons well, our two little charges. They're nonchalant about being off leash now, and move about with huge confidence, delighted no doubt to be free to indulge whatever impulse instructs them.

We're gaining confidence ourselves, less worried about some incident occurring that might contain a threat to their safety. They're always within eyesight, and when they occasionally trot too far ahead, will stand and wait when we call out to them, or return, when it's clear that's what we want of them. When, as so often happens, we stop to talk with an acquaintance, they oblige by stopping as well and patiently waiting. When they used to be on leash, Jackie would indicate his patience ebbing by pulling on Jillie's leash to drag her ahead, and we got the message.