We've decided to make it a permanent thing now, unless situations arise that make it prudent to reverse that decision, to keep our two little dogs off-leash while we're in the ravine. We feel they're old enough, sober enough for the most part, and experienced enough that we can begin to once again relax about them. Last year we hadn't had them on leash, but they behaved so badly, rushing out of sight to accost other dogs, barking furiously the while, and over the course of our walks looking for old decayed canine fecal matter to chomp on, that we felt we needed more control.

While their old habit of greeting dogs they don't know with a furious display of barking is slightly modified, not quite lapsed, the other habit has now receded, although Jillie in particular needs constant reminders. So we're progressing, slowly but surely. There was one dog they were familiar with and whom they clamoured to be around, and that was Lilly, the white German Shepherd. She had a calming effect on them.

She had been the first to ignore their pugnacious, impudent manner, and eventually they dropped it with her. Since then they no longer behave aggressively and stupidly with dogs they're familiar with, though they continue their irritating habit when they come across dogs they don't know, until they do get to know them.

Lilly is gone now. We were quite shocked. And nor was Rob, her companion-walker, prepared to lose her. He has been through a rough few months, starting when he was fitted with a heart pacemaker. He is a physically imposing man, of great height, and he has experienced more than enough problems, having suffered heart failure years ago. And then suddenly, Lilly became ill and just as suddenly she died. She was only eight, it hardly makes sense. Rob was proud of her, of her calm demeanor and sweet personality, a large dog with no intention of throwing her weight around.

Every time we see Rob now, he seems sad, and speaks of how much he misses her presence. He continues to walk about in the woods, but he tells us it's a lonely affair. And we know what that's like. There's a huge gap, something elemental to one's pleasure in life is gone, leaving a vacuum leading to depression. He's thinking about searching for another companion, and if he does he will want another dog just like Lilly; the breed in any event. Lilly in particular is irreplaceable. All beloved pets are; they are singular, individual, with personalities as diverse as those of humans.