The idea was to avoid the worst excesses of the heat of the day, so we left fairly early for our swing through the ravine today, an hour and a half of exercise and fresh air for all of us, and an opportunity for Jack and Jill to do some socializing. We blessed the cooling breeze that swept through the close atmosphere since even in the late morning hours the depth of the heat was obvious. As long as we were shaded by the canopy of the forest it felt fine; anytime we broke out into an open area it wasn't difficult to calculate just how much of a sizzler the next few days will be; tomorrow and Friday destined to reach 33. And it's always humid here.

Little did we anticipate that we'd run into plenty of other trail walkers today, taken out for exercise and air by their owner-canines. The first was a 15-month-old terrier-hound mix, a middling-sized, friendly playful fellow with whom our two got along just fine. We weren't familiar with his companion, an older man, but coming across others in the woods being walked by their dogs presents the perfect opportunity to discuss things like veterinarians, dog appetites and dislikes, and which veterinarian hospitals are best to avoid, if at all possible.

Further along there was another young dog, about the same age as the last, and not far off the age of our own two, but this one a frisky, friendly, beautiful Weimaraner. And Jack and Jill romped about with him, as well. It was clear that the heat was getting to this dog, given his companion informed us, to allergies and food fastidiousness, somewhat like Jackie who will occasionally refuse his breakfast kibble, then pick up detritus non-stop during our walk in the woods.

Next up was an overweight, fourteen-year-old, cranky Corgi who did her best to evade the nuisance of having to introduce herself grudgingly to two impertinent little dogs who should have known their place but obviously do not. We most certainly empathized with her. It was clear she was impatient to move on with her human beyond the reach of such wretchedly nasty little black imps, devilishly perturbing the placidity of her day.

Before long, a pack of dogs approached behind us as we cleared one of the bridges leading from the woods to a bit of a clearing before the trail dipped back into the woods once again. Three muscular and beautifully conformed hounds were first, and trailing them in this group was a mixed collie, and a German-shepherd mix. Ambling along behind, to make up a half-dozen, was a bull mastiff. We knew slightly the man with the bull mastiff.

The others we've never really spoken with, other than a brief greeting; and it is they, a young man and woman, who walk the other five dogs, and all of them go wherever it pleases them, none on leash. Which is reasonable enough with well-behaved dogs when their walkers are able to see what they're doing at all times, and maintain control. We've come across them a half-dozen times or so over the months since late winter and have never had any problem with them.

A sniff-around took place, then off they moved well ahead of us. And soon enough we came across the older man with his terrier mix, seated on one of the old benches still remaining in the ravine, looking fairly upset. It seems the group of six large dogs had caught up with him and his young dog, and they hadn't behaved all too well, with several of them circling his dog and then making hostile physical contact. He extricated his dog as the younger pair accompanied by the older man moved on with their horde. Not a word of apology or sympathy elicited from the pair, as the man with the set-upon dog expressed his ire on behalf of his dog.

We were by no means finished with doggy encounters this day. Along came Rufus, whom my husband has renamed Dufuss, and who always takes a very intimately intrusive interest in Jackie and Jillie. We've known his companion for decades, throughout the years when a predecessor dog, Sydney, owned the man's loyalty and attention. Long conversations about this and that always ensue when we come across one another; we've known his two sons as well, both now paramedics, while he was an engineer with Bell Canada himself, and his wife suffers dreadfully from asthma.

Dufuss, he said, is behaving much better of late than he had been doing previously. Unfortunately, as it happens, we ourselves saw no evidence of such a change in behaviour. And though our two little dogs are always pleased and excited to come across other dogs they're familiar with, it doesn't last long when they come accounter Dufuss, it becomes the rare time they are seen to more or less curl up in defence, hide between our legs and attempt to evade as much as possible, strenuous physical overtures on the part of this ever-amorous dog.

Our walk concluded with the sighting of a pileated woodpecker hammering away on the trunk of a recently-deceased elm tree. They are such primitive, albeit beautiful-looking birds. Their size and markings, the bright red, black and white so prominent, their emphatic strength in knocking large pieces of wood from their targets, are remarkable. I've wanted for ages to be able to get a good photograph of one of these magnificent birds, and had I been in possession of my camera on several occasions when such a woodpecker had been extremely cooperative, I'd have one by now. This one, obviously knowing I had a camera handy, decided to be a tease and disallow me my aspirational photo. It came up absent the bird.