It's a constant pinging sound barely audible. But Jackie and Jillie noticed it and took offence. Their umbrage led to loud staccato barks every time it happened. The house alarm was informing us that the back-up battery had entered the end of its useful life. It's a large, square box of a battery. Only once before did it give up the ghost and that was many years ago. Back then it was nothing to hop in the car and drive a distance to a store that specializes in all kinds of odd batteries.

These days if an errand isn't strictly necessary, it isn't strictly necessary. The less exposure to the potential of airborne Omicron droplets at a time when municipal hospitals are quickly filling with COVID-19 patients, the better. We'd get around to replacing it. The area office of the alarm company was also receiving those annoyingly sharp beeps, since they monitor the system. And they called to advise that the battery should be replaced as soon as possible. Another intrusive annoyance. That was several weeks ago. Irving neutralized the thing, to shut off that annoying clatter.  Jackie and Jillie, that is, not the alarm beeping since we can hardly hear it. The alarm still, from time to time, raised its nasty little reminders, breaking through the 'silence' barrier..

Irving decided today he would run several imperative-type errands, and driving out to that battery outlet would be one of them, so off he went. He called me from that destination as he was preparing to leave, battery in tow, to drop by the bank. He didn't mention he also planned to drop by an area supermarket he likes to go to occasionally for the brand of bread they carry and specialty cheeses, along with hot smoked salmon, for a Sunday dinner treat. So he was out awhile.

I had plenty to do in the house, since it's laundry day. Just taking Jackie and Jillie out to the backyard multiple times in the day is enough to keep anyone busy. They've got to keep abreast of what the squirrels and the rabbit are up to. In the interests of doing just that they tend to burst out of the house, legs akimbo, feet flying, to commence a frantic course around the garden sheds, sniff about the gardens, and finally do their business.

We ended up leaving the house for the ravine a little later than we usually do at the latest of times, knowing we'd be out during dusk hours and by the time we returned to the street after our circuit, house lights would be on in the neighbourhood, and stars would be blinking in the sky. 

There was a sharp, icy wind, and a damp, -6C atmosphere. Nothing unusual. We're just a little more 'aware' when we're out and darkness begins its slow and steady crawl into the landscape. A landscape that becomes a little fuzzier minute-by-minute. Any time Jackie and Jillie sense something or hear or see something they can't identify they bark frantically. Including at other people seen in the distance on other trails, from time to time.

We're well aware that if coyotes are lurking in the forest interior they'll react to their presence as well. So we keep them close, while telling them to stop the incessant barking -- at people and other dogs. Fruitlessly. This is a bad habit, certainly not recently acquired and certainly inherited as a breed-specific behaviour. We're relieved when they're distracted by odours, by curiosity, by the appearance of a dog they're familiar with.

By the time our circuit was completed and we were descending the last hill up to the street, the clear crescent shape of the moon was dangling above, silver-bright against the soft velvet-blue of the sky.