We first saw Eva while we were out on a ravine walk on a summer afternoon. It was hard not to notice her. For one thing she was a beautiful dog, a large German Shepherd mix with sleek lines, an absolutely perfect conformation and coat, making for a truly beautiful animal. And when we saw her she had been alone. Alone, but frantically moving along the trail, nose to the ground, ears pricked up as though desperately sniffing for and listening for a clue that might deliver her from whatever was stressing her.

She paid no attention to our calls for her to come over so we could look for identification, instead continuing her frantic search and then she was soon out of sight. Clearly, she was looking for someone she had lost contact with. My husband recalled seeing a slight, blonde young woman earlier on our trail walk, with two large dogs, and we surmised, though we had taken scant notice at the time that this was one of the dissimilar pair and had happened to become separated from its companions.

We learned later, as we became familiar with their walker and with Eva, that this had indeed been the case. Eva was around two years old at the time, devoted to both her human and her canine companion, a much older dog. Eventually the older dog died and then it was just Eva and the young woman whom we would happen to come across from time to time walking the forest trails. Occasionally, the  young woman's husband, a cheery young man with a wide open smile and a ready chuckle would come along with them. We learned several years ago that Eva had some kind of dreadful liver condition and the vets weren't sure that surgery would help.

She was prescribed medication to help with the pain and her growing disability, and she continued to come out to the ravine, but it soon became apparent that she was no longer the same energetic, beautiful animal she had once been and the  young woman looked increasingly concerned, uncertain whether to proceed with surgery or just continue with palliative care. Not long afterward we no longer saw any of them out for ravine walks. Until a year ago when we saw both the young woman and her husband out with a springy little black Lab whom they clearly doted on.

We saw the young woman a few more times intermittently, but thereafter it was only her husband we would come across in the company of the little Lab, growing bigger each time, but destined to be a quite small member of his breed, albeit a happy, lively little character who obviously had a place in his capacious heart for everyone he might come across. Jackie and Jillie, though they've not seen him very often, feel quite comfortable in the little fellow's presence. We came across them yesterday afternoon during our ravine walk, a cold -7C, with a biting wind.

The little black Lab was wearing his own winter coat, bright red, which didn't deter him one bit from his usual frisky playfulness, overjoyed to see friends and ready to leap all over us in the ecstasy of fellowship in nature.