We had never seen the muscular little dog before, nor the young man who was with it, and when I asked if it was a Staffordshire terrier, the young man responded, no a bulldog, to our surprise. We'd never seen a bulldog that looked like that before, but this was not the typical English bulldog, we were told, this one was bred for slightly longer, less crooked legs, and a breathable snout. He hardly resembled what we were familiar with.

He was exactly the same age as Jack and Jill, 13 months, and as springy and enthusiastic as they were, but he was off leash and ours, as usual were on leash. We've never been able to convince ourselves that they would be entirely safe to be able to roam at will, fearful that it would be difficult to keep them in sight at all times, that they mightn't respond to our calls to remain close by. We'd had no reservations about such things with Button and Riley before Jack and Jill; they were off leash when they were quite young and responsive to us, though we experienced occasional frights with them several times.

Perhaps we haven't factored in the fact that we're not as young as we were back then, now approaching our 80th year, with less confidence in our own ability to react swiftly enough to extricate them from dangerous situations. In any event, the young man was extremely friendly and so was Chase, the little bulldog, multiple times heavier and larger than our two, but not overly large, so we let Jack and Jill off leash and they didn't behave too badly with Chase, and nor did Chase overwhelm them.

We walked along together for a half hour or so, in conversation with the young man, as we all watched and took pleasure in the interactions of the three dogs. And then we came across another young man we'd never before seen and his companion was a Labradoodle, a black, woolly six-month-old larger than Chase, and even more exuberant, happy to find others to play with. The two larger dogs were fairly well matched and enthusiastic about rumbling against one another, occasionally lapsing into dangerous territory, where snarling and nips began to surface, leading to their brief enforced separations.

Jack and Jill, still off leash, were leery over all the commotion, and although at times tried to engage, soon found their slight weights were no match against the two larger dogs who bowled them over repeatedly, until both of our little fellows thought it wiser to withdraw, well decorated with dry foliage sticking all over their haircoats.

Eventually, we all separated and we moved on, and we left Jack and Jill off leash, free to trot happily along the trails they're so familiar with. They did respond extremely well whenever we asked them to wait, or to return to us, always keeping well within view, and we were pleased with their behaviour. Their tendency to browse and pick up rotted bits of vegetation always elicits a 'no!', and they responded well to that, as well.

(Later in the afternoon Jillie threw up when we were travelling in the car, and there we saw -- on a towel I keep there for that very purpose -- in what her stomach had rejected a half-dozen well-preserved wasps, leaving us to wonder when, where and why she would have ingested such an obviously delectable treat.)

On our return home from our ravine perambulation, we praised them mightily, but it seemed as though they felt fairly casual about the affair, as though nothing unusual had occurred, making it a success by any measure.