Another stay-at-home day for Jackie and Jillie. They may be slightly perplexed that we haven't been going out on our daily jaunts into the ravine along the forest trails as usual, but they haven't yet chastised us about it, nor asked whether we've forgotten.

They seem to find ample other occupations to keep themselves busy, from rousting about the house to following me as I do mundane little things around the house. That's as-usual, too. My husband's kneecap is improving. Friday was a really bad day, but yesterday he saw vast improvement.

He's anxious to get out and about, I'm anxious to ensure he won't do that until we can be assured he won't have another set-back similar to the one he precipitated on Wednesday by prematurely supposing he could do hard physical work requiring a fully flexible body to be contorted into unnatural positions in the interests of installing a kitchen appliance. He paid for it afterward, now admits it was a poor decision on his part.

He's getting around better now, not as uncomfortable as he was, and the pain has certainly diminished. He wanted to rush out this morning after breakfast, to tend to his usual errands, but I appealed to a more sensible decision. So he's resting; someone who isn't accustomed to 'taking it easy'.

We're taking turns going out to the backyard with Jackie and Jillie. When I accompanied them out early in the morning it was snowing steadily. A new snowfall always makes them reactively exuberant, and I can relate to that. It's beautiful, ethereal, transformative to the landscape; to be admired at the moment. Of course that's my reaction, theirs is related to fun-and-games leaping about in fresh new snow.

Jackie makes me laugh sometimes. He's more than familiar with his own backyard, and though they both sniff about vigorously, detecting the fleeting presence of black and red squirrels, chipmunks and birds and sometimes raccoons, Jackie suspects that behind the glass door of the garden shed another little black dog like him provocatively challenges him.

After all, when the light is cast in a certain way he can see that other little dog when he sidles up beside the door. He waits expectantly for that strange little dog to emerge and when it fails to, he agitatedly barks and scratches at the door to encourage it to come out and play. Instead, his sister ambles over and offers to fill the gap.

I always feel rewarded when, out with them, they begin playing about and inviting one another to a run-about and tussle. When they were puppies these interplays were far more energetic and wild, and watching them was a particular delight that we quite enjoyed. They've become more moderate, much tamer, but their inclination to challenge one another to a bout of playful romping hasn't changed one whit.

When they have a go at ripping about the house, they leap about like little imps, up the stairs, through the hallways, zipping into rooms, onto beds, back and forth, then downstairs again, leaping and frolicking. It just wouldn't be possible to film them because they're too swift, too unpredictable, out off camera range in the wink of an eye.