It seems you just cannot take the 'yap' instinct away from some small dog breeds. They're called, derisively by large-dog-owners, Yappy Little Dogs and as uncomfortable as that may make us, it's just what they are. They're high-strung and neurotic. Oh sure, it's not a constant, in that during the course of the day they're always on alert and prepared to bark their dear little heads off.

But not far from it. We can be sitting quietly on a sofa, relaxing, reading the newspapers, dozing off in late afternoon, Jackie and Jillie beside us, as comfortable and dozy as we are, when all of a sudden all hell breaks loose. We're jolted to attention because one or both of them has begun hysterically barking. They leap off the sofa toward the front door and stand there barking.

When we go to investigate we sometimes find someone standing amused at the frantic efforts of two little dogs bouncing off the door with a 'lemmee at 'em!' attitude as they wait at  the other side of the glass-fronted door  for us to respond. And sometimes there's no one there. They may have felt they heard something, smelled something that required them to react, and react they do.

When we're on forest trails in the ravine with them it seems at times that they're overcoming their reactive trait, there's less panicked barking, less of their running frantically ahead to determine who is moving toward us. But it's an illusion, merely wishful thinking. We'd like them to be calm, we'd so much appreciate it if they didn't initiate contact with others with that lunatic yapping.

They don't indulge in these acoustical fireworks when they know, because their nose tells them so, that whoever is approaching is someone they know. Acquaintances don't merit panic or barking challenges to their presence. Any barking that may occur can be interpreted by its volume and cadence as a greeting. Our little Apricot toy poodle Riley was just the same. Button, our miniature poodle wasn't; it's breed-specific, the toys are notorious for their hostile barking.

We were naive enough to think that patience and repetition and quiet scolding would serve to inform them that we felt this behaviour to be less than acceptable. We tried making noise (tin can filled with pennies to shake and clack whenever they would begin barking), squirting them with lemon water (which they didn't mind at all), informing them in no uncertain chiding terms that we were displeased with them (disconcerting to Jackie, irrelevant to Jillie), but nothing helped.

They're maturing, no longer in puppyhood, and, we hope, acquiring some measure of adult maturity and an understanding of what kind of behaviour elicits our displeasure with them. That it's our illusion, that they'll outgrow something they're hard-wired with genetically is fairly obvious.

Truth is, we have to accept what we cannot change. We love them dearly and care for their well-being. They reward us by dispensing toward us the emotional warmth we find so appealing. We enjoy their presence and their company. They enliven our lives and increase its pleasure. So be it.