Of the two siblings, Jackie is the emotionally sensitive one. Nothing much seems to faze Jillie. She is stoic, and imperturbable. She is clingy in her own way. She wants to be noticed and stroked, there is never enough of the latter. She likes physical contact. Her brother limits his. They are so unalike in so many ways, both physically and psychologically.

We can apply psychology to dogs as well as to people, of course. On occasion, as we roam through the forest trails in our daily ravine walks we will come across both dogs and people whose character or personality happens not to connect with our own, let alone in the experience of our two little dogs. There are some people we just find obnoxious.

Just as some dogs appear to have developed habits that makes you prefer not to be around them. Not that they seem physically threatening, just that they've picked up tics, perhaps because they are uncertain and insecure, that annoy others. Like the German Shepherd-Husky mix we came across yesterday with a perfectly pleasant middle-aged man. The dog was well behaved and innocuous enough but for a continual display of back-digging. You know what some alpha dogs do after they've evacuated, and they end it with a little display of digging in the soil, sending clods of dirt flying everywhere?

Well, this dog took it to extremes. He continually indulged in back-digging and since he was a large dog, able to penetrate the soil of the forest floor without any difficulty, wet clods of dark soil and vegetable matter flew a good distance in each of his displays of authority or alpha-ness. Best to avoid near proximity. Its behaviour didn't seem to bother Jackie and Jillie; they just moved aside a distance. And so, needless to say did we, while the dog's companion smiled wryly.

There's a woman we come across occasionally, having met her a few years ago. She has a very nice companion dog, a mature and well-behaved Lab mix who always goes its own way, never making any attempt to befriend other dogs, never showing any interest in people they come across. Which is fine. But in their presence, Jackie becomes instantly nervous and continually begs to be picked up. He leaps against my legs, nibbles my fingers, pulls at my clothing. And Jillie, unusual for her, does the same, albeit in a less frantic manner.

We find this woman obnoxious. She is never out without earbuds plugged into an iPod or whatever they're called, and the music she listens to is sharp and jarring, loud and somewhat hysterical. Why anyone would want to fill their ears with it is beyond me, particularly in favour of the raucous sound that emanates so annoyingly, as opposed to the peal of a cardinal or bluejay, the song of a robin, the soft melody of songbirds. And if a tree were to fall, would she hear it? The classic question.

Oddly, while listening to her music she chooses to walk alongside us, and a conversation invariably ensues. She is the quintessential expert, opinionated, brash and confident. Questions? She has the answers. Whether or not a question has been posed, an answer/solution will be forthcoming. Smug and assertive, this woman is not anyone's ideal walking companion, when you prefer the calm and serenity of the sounds of the forest.

And, until we manage to part, explaining feebly that our normal pace, given our age, is slower than the one she affects, and best we rest from time to time as we forge our way through the forest. Immediately we part, Jackie and Jillie feel as relieved as we do. Free to amble along at an agreeable pace, enabling us to hesitate now and again to more closely admire the woodland violets now in full bloom, their yellows and mauves an absolute delight amongst the prevailing green ambiance.