Aren't people strange? We do, as a species, seem to have an absurd sense of avoidance in acknowledging our inconsistencies which, side-by-side, make no good sense whatever. If we have one serious failing it is finding fault with others, while preferring to remain oblivious to our own. Or perhaps even persuading ourselves that whatever those faults may be, since they're ours alone, they're tolerable.

In the last several months we've come across a new face in the ravine. A middle-aged, quite pleasant woman, walking a lovely little poodle mix, a light brown-coloured mass of tight curls not yet a year old, an impish scamp forever on the move. Invariably, when Jackie and Jillie spot the little dog they exercise their usual mandate to inform the intruder that they are permitted to share the forest confines on a condition of sufferance.

Behaviour toward others must be respectful, with a tolerance toward light play and shared adventure. This, from a pair of siblings whose behaviour toward other dogs leaves much to be desired; prancing assertively about, challenging dogs they're not familiar with, steeped in a barking frenzy, until the usual sniffing session reassures all parties that a truce is in order, and they settle down to familiarize themselves with one another, sharing a run-about.

Jackie, behaving....

Try as we might to mitigate this offensive behaviour, we've been met with only partial success. The penalty for misbehaviour is having their freedom temporarily revoked, and they're put back on leash. This doesn't happen with any regularity with Jackie, since Jillie is the one who initiates all this frantic behaviour and Jackie is merely a follower. I finally took Jillie off leash yesterday in our ravine walk when we came across the miniature Apricot poodle-mix so they could all have a good run. It starts off nicely enough, until the younger one gets really obstreperous and aggressive.

He's twice the size/weight of either of our two, so his tactics are intimidating, causing Jackie and Jillie to retreat and seek shelter, resuming their barking, and in the process their brief camaraderie is shattered. Eventually the woman, who observes all this with amusement and admiration of her little fellow, will emit the occasional mild reproach to her dog to 'be nice', and then moves on. We always visualize that the little fellow will challenge and offend the wrong dog, large and more aggressive with a propensity to put little dogs in their place. Evidently, that hasn't yet happened.

Soon after we parted, we came across another man we've seen on occasion, walking his middling-sized white terrier mix. He had obviously experienced exposure with his dog to the frenetic antics of the little poodle. He expressed his outright condemnation of anyone failing to take their companion dog's behaviour in hand right from the get-go. His dog is nine, with a passive temperament, and never seems to bark. We mentioned our difficulties in guiding Jackie and Jillie toward a more stable behaviour pattern, and he looked surprised, commenting that they seem perfectly well behaved to him. But the Apricot poodle mix, he asserted, needed strict disciplinary direction, and to avoid that is to look for future problems.

And then he just happened to speak of one of his own dog's predilections that he had been unsuccessful in curbing; an attraction to rabbits; cornering them and terrorizing them. He never saw his dog mouthing or biting a rabbit, only holding it firmly, pawing it to the ground and keeping it there. Countless times, he said, he had rushed over to free such a rabbit victim only to find it had died of fright, in a heart attack. He couldn't recall how many times, it was such a frequent occurrence.

There are some people who walk their dogs constantly on leash, and likely to be able to control their troublesome behaviour. I know that if we had a dog, nice and quiet and biddable, but with a propensity to hunting rabbits and killing them by default, we'd keep it on leash to prevent repeats.