Each of our days is promising, varied and different. One never knows what a day will bring. We are accustomed to our rituals, our habits and routines but in and among those instances where we tend to repeat quotidian actions, some necessary, some peculiar to our own needs and wants, other things intrude, sometimes delightful, sometimes not.

And sometimes those intrusions can be a combination of good and not-so-good. As, for example, this morning when I set off with our two little poodles for a routine amble in the woods, dipping into the ravine running alongside and off the street we live on, to feast my eyes on still-falling leaves, where the canvas of the landscape is predominating shades of gold, yellow and all manner of hues from lemon to bronze.

On the initial descent Jackie and Jillie became excited and began barking, incited to react by the obvious presence, though I was unable to see them, of two other dogs. The two dogs quickly raced up the hill toward us, one a standard-size poodle, the other larger than the poodle, but a smallish version of an old English sheep dog. The two large dogs were as interested in  the two little poodles as they were of them. They were also interested in me, and took to pushing vigorously into my space until the old English sheep dog quickly leaped up at me, its muzzle hitting hard against my face, stunning me momentarily with the shock and the ache of it.

By this time their human companion had come up to stand alongside, calling the sheep dog off, apologizing and explaining that it was only seven months old and rather rambunctious. Recalling  the way that Jackie and Jillie were not all that long ago, that's understandable and we exchanged a few words of mutual commiseration. And then the sheep dog puppy made another leap at me, once again hitting hard against my face. They were both beautiful dogs, lovely to look at, but their behaviour, continually jostling hard against me left much to be desired. Pet owners have an obligation to the welfare of their dogs but they also have a social obligation to ensure that their dogs know how to courteously confront other dogs and people. Another apology ensued.

I'd never encountered the trio before. We, my husband and I, and our succession of beloved dogs have accustomed ourselves and our dogs to daily ravine walks in the forest surrounding our home. We've met countless people and their companion animals over the last twenty-five years on the various trails, and become familiar with a good proportion of them. This was my introduction to the woman who obviously valued and was proud of her two lovely canines.

The woman, a sturdy, middle aged pleasant-looking woman with an athletic build, apologized once again and asked whether I had doggy treats on me. When I said I had, she responded with the admonition that it was the treats that had motivated her dogs to swarm me. I'm familiar with how dogs behave when they scent treats and then attempt to nose them out in a pocket and these dogs weren't doing that. Rather than admit that she had failed her responsibility to teach the dogs social civility, at the very least acceptable behaviour, the woman chose to inform me that I was at fault for tempting them by carrying on my person dog treats, and suggested should I ever come across them again, I would do well to be immediately proactive and admonish her dogs with a loud and emphatic "NO!" if they approached me to deter them from their behaviour.

People can be strange, foisting their responsibilities off onto others. But people do run the full gamut of human intelligence, emotions and solutions. It's useful to maintain a balanced perspective.