Just when you think you've seen it all, something appears to convince you there's plenty of peculiar things yet to be seen. And you never know when, where, how and why. But that's part of the mystery of life.

It's no mystery, though, that sometimes we just feel lazy and don't see ourselves inclined to do anything but ... just nothing. It's how we both felt late this morning. We may be retired from the active workforce for decades, but old habits die hard. We think of the weekend as 'free', as rest periods, as time to do with as we like, to devote to purely recreational activities. Or just plain nothing.

It was just plain nothing that appealed to us this morning. We just didn't feel like doing anything. Of course, when you're in the workforce and you have a family there are other responsibilities you pick up on during the weekends. Time isn't really your own. You just cram other things into those two 'days of leisure' that you hadn't the opportunity to look after during the work week.

The illusion remains with us, though, that the weekend is our time to do with as we wish. Or must, as the case may be. Usually Jackie and Jillie are pretty laid back after a hearty breakfast, happy enough to just laze about while we two go about other activities. The last few days the sun has been bright and brazen, and its presence is driving Jillie insane. She wants to be close up and personal with the sun. Who can blame her?

Except for the fact that it's also been very cold, and although she might be content with the sun streaming into the breakfast room from the patio doors, while sleeping comfortably alongside on her little bed, she wants to be outside, and she agitates constantly for us to slide open those damn doors and let her out! Jackie tends to accompany her, but he doesn't go further than the deck, watching her from that height as she makes her way down the steps to an area of the snowy garden in full sunlight. Waiting for her foolishness to abate as the cold finally penetrates. He keeps emitting little appeals which she ignores to convince her to relent, and she ignores him. Until she finally assents. And then they both make a dash for the indoors.

Today, while we two were splayed out on the sofa, both our little charges were at us, trying to infuse some enthusiasm into us, sadly -- in their considered opinion -- absent. They had decided, though it was earlier than they usually are taken out into the forest, that it was time to be off. Sighing, we tried ignoring them. Tough to do when two little dogs peer earnestly at your face, pawing gently to draw attention to their dire need to be out and about.

We glanced at the thermometer, and it glanced -8C right back at us. Slight wind, but blue sky festooned with faint little wisps of white clouds. Sighed again, and prepared their boots and their winter coats and sweaters and off we went. Mission accomplished, they no doubt whispered to one another. And upon reaching the hillside descent into the ravine they emulated greyhounds in their mad dash to the bottom.

We weren't long on the trails when suddenly we turned at a faint snow-crunching sound and saw approaching quickly behind us a white apparition. Oddly, there had been no pre-warning from Jackie and Jillie, forever alert to the impending presence of others. Bulky, white and determined, the apparition nodded and briskly passed us. For a change Jackie and Jillie were too stunned with wonder to race after the ... um, thing. They stood, watching like us, as it disappeared around a bend in the trail. Had we seen something?

Obviously, someone geared up with a military-issue winter camouflage outfit. A first for us.

Soon afterward Jackie and Jillie were introduced, kind of, to a very gentlemanly Boxer none of us had ever before had the pleasure of acquaintance with. As well geared as they were, with boots and winter coat, the sleek, friendly dog introduced himself and proved to welcome attention. He seemed quite content to trot alongside us, until his person finally reminded him who it was he had entered the ravine with, and to be loyal to his number one friend, and they both departed in the opposite direction.