Mushers in the far north always protected their dog teams' paws from the ravages of cold and ice by tying rawhide squares securely around their paws. Direct contact with freezing snow and ice conditions would be painful to the Huskies, they needed that protection. When our daughter first adopted her Husky-German Shepherd mix, she decided that in the Ottawa winter months it would be a good idea to make her own boots for her dog whom she took on long trail walks in the Gatineau Hills and elsewhere. Actually in the ravine alongside our house as well.

So when we brought home our first little Miniature Poodle, Button, I decided to do the same. Although our daughter made Button's first set of boots, I set about making the replacements. Eventually we brought home a Toy Poodle and Riley and Button were both outfitted with winter boots of my construction. They were a nuisance to put on but a necessity to ensure they could walk through a forest trail without pain. In fact, if we hadn't bothered to put their boots on thinking it wasn't cold enough to warrant them, they would occasionally just stop and refuse to go on, lifting their paws in agony, so we'd lift them and carry them until they warmed up.

People may not realize that when their companion pets walk in urban areas where the roads have been salted and the salt spray goes over all surfaces, the tender pads of dogs pick up the salt which exacerbates the cold. Their pads become cracked and swollen and cut and they bleed. An obvious signal that requires a remedy.

I didn't enjoy making the boots, they were fiddly work. I used fleece for the legging portion and leather for the pads, and sewing them up was fairly difficult, requiring patience. You wanted them to be both comfortable and efficient at keeping paws warm. We went through quite a few sets. Eventually we decided we'd buy commercial boots, better designed and produced, we figured. They would do the job better and would be less likely to fall off. Wrong. They're no more efficient than those I used to make, even more difficult to fit onto those little feet, and they do fall off.

Yesterday on our ravine walk, Jackie and Jillie scrambled excitedly about, racing here and there and into deep snow in an ecstasy of enthusiasm. Each lost a boot. Instead of refitting them we just pocketed them and they didn't seem to suffer because of that. It was minus-ten C, not much wind with fresh-fallen snow. Enough wind to help the cold penetrate. We shorten our circuit under those circumstances, something we would never have done years ago. But it's a struggle to cope with the snow and the cold; takes more energy altogether.

We came across Sheila walking her three wonderfully disciplined dogs, all from the same litter, two males and a female. Border collies are medium-sized dogs and quite a bit larger than our two. Sheila equips her three dogs with boots she makes herself. They never lose them, she told us. And the dogs seemed just as comfortable with their boots as ours are with theirs. They learn to accept them, and then forget they're wearing them, but because they're being worn the dogs are enabled to disport themselves in comfort in the excruciating cold conditions. Reason enough to use them.

We've entered a winter cold snap. Windy, with gusting emphasis on minus-17 Celsius mornings, with the temperature not nudging up all that much more throughout the day. Mind, we also have sun, but there's little warmth in a wan winter sun on such cold days, particularly when roaming through a forest of conifers sprinkled with deciduous trees. The forest does, however, offer shelter from the worst of the winds. We can hear it ferociously roaring through the canopy above.

So, it's very cold, and we have to dress accordingly. Not just us, but our little dogs, precisely because they are little dogs. On these days, they need their warm coats and boots to shelter them from the extreme cold, but a sweater under the coat is also a good idea, to cover their bellies. They don't seem to mind, they're glad to be out and exuberant over the snow.

We, on the other hand, tend to plod through the depths of newfallen snow which, depending on its moister content can also cause us to slither and slip ascending and descending hills. They encounter no such problems, equipped with double the number of legs we have.

The trouble with being so bundled up is that we cannot react as quickly. When I have to reach for tissues because my nose needs wiping, I've got to haul off those cumbersome mittens, ditto for the camera and it's quite a nuisance. Similarly, we move less nimbly encumbered as we are with heavy winter boots, and warm leggings and coats that constrain movement. Let alone hoods that interfere with sightlines.

One winter little Riley, though dressed just as Jackie and Jillie are now, scampered ahead of us barking shrilly at a large old Husky we encountered on one of the trails. We couldn't catch up to him because we were going uphill through thick snow. The Husky stopped Riley by scooping him up into its mouth and Riley's threatening barks turned to yips of pure unadulterated fear. When I reached them both at the same time the Husky's owner did, I attempted to pry Riley out of the Husky's mouth and barely managed, Riley whimpering fiercely.

He wasn't harmed; his sweater and coat had shielded him from the Husky's teeth. The man explained to me that the dog was suffering from cancer, and was in any event accustomed to small dogs, he played with his mother's little dog often.

So, we attempt in these walks in the woods at this time of year, to keep our two mischief-makers in close proximity. Like Riley, they have a tendency to bark first whimper later.

"A cigar or needle shape is the most likely architecture for an interstellar spacecraft, since this would minimize friction and damage from interstellar gas and dust."
University of California, Berkeley, Breakthrough Listen project

This is a bit of information that might appear to be useful to the astronomically challenged, unaware of such particularities. And it might go far to explaining in part the recent fascinated excitement in the community of astronomers, cosmologists and theoretical physicists at the appearance of a strange object in the sky above us. An unusual visitor, recognized in October as the unique and first appearance in our Milky Way Galaxy of an interstellar traveller. Indeed, a cigar-shaped rock formation hurtling a breakneck speed through space toward our sun, which the astronomical elite feel might be a Trojan Horse.

Really? Yes, really.

That some brilliant, technologically advanced civilization from another part of the Universe entirely has cloaked a furtive mission to scope out other diverse and scattered areas in galaxies not their own to assess other possible life forms. For what reason beyond curiosity and the inspired collection of intelligence simply to know, is beyond anyone's guess. But not beyond the hypothetical spinning of possible scenarios by someone of the colossal reputation for brilliance in intuiting the mysteries beyond our immediate space that can be posited by the ilk of Stephen Hawking.

In the prolonged and so-far unfruitful search to pick up any vestiges of other life through various modes of electromagnetic radiation and radio communication, it seems that Professor Hawking is dismayed, feeling that it would be more prudent for humans not to bring attention to their existence, lest other, far more advanced creatures than ourselves know of our presence and plot evil against us. As compared, for example, to the exuberantly optimistic attitude of the late, great Carl Sagan, who envisioned the possibility of humans and other lifeforms in a congress of beatified cooperation.

Stephen Hawking has a far less generous view of what a presumed meeting of another lifeform of intelligence equal to or surpassing that of humankind, with their human counterparts might be like. It is a moodily alarmed and alarming view, and while within the realm of possibility as far-fetched as it seems, might conceivably be reflective of the obverse of the old adage: a healthy mind in a healthy body. Carl Sagan, you see, exemplified that healthy mind in a healthy body. Imagine the anguish of a questing mind confined within a body inexorably failing.

"Such advanced aliens would perhaps become nomads, looking to conquer and colonize whatever planets they could reach."
"If so, it makes sense for them to exploit each new planet for material to build more spaceships so they could move on. Who knows what the limits would be?"
"We don't know much about aliens, but we know about humans. If you look at history, contact between humans and less intelligent organisms have often been disastrous from their point of view, and encounters between civilizations with advanced versus primitive technologies have gone badly for the less advanced."
"A civilization reading one of our messages could be billions of years ahead of us. If so, they will be vastly more powerful, and may not see us as any more valuable than we see bacteria."

 

Mightn't it be possible, if extraterrestrial beings are so highly technologically involved that they could also be highly emotionally, socially evolved, and not given to using brute, lethal force against one another, let alone any other creatures in existence? 

I thought it so quaint, and just loved hearing those five o'clock chimes that wafted softly through every Tokyo neighbourhood as though to remind people that the day was winding down, best get home from work, enjoy a good meal, relax with family, make the most of the evening hours to entertain yourselves.

Being reminded what time it is and what that time signifies is something we've grown accustomed to in our little family when our little dogs become restless and deliver their instructions analogous to the time. Both Jackie and Jillie will crowd me anxiously, nuzzling me to get up if I'm sitting reading the paper in the early evening, punctually at six o'clock. Of course, they want to be fed. I've been tardy.

Later on in the evening when eleven o'clock rolls around Jackie will go to the door and bark imperiously. Time for their last hoorah outdoors because it is an undeniable fact that it is bedtime. And at bedtime, even if they have both been soundly napping while we've been busy with our own pleasant evening distractions, they want to be upstairs in their bed, and they want us to be up there in bed as well, when the day is done.

Similarly, they tend to read the signs they find from us that it's time to go out for a ramble in the woods, urging us to proceed and prepare everything for that daily venture. Sometimes we go earlier, sometimes later; usually in the early to mid-afternoon, but occasionally later and on occasion in late morning. Yesterday the weather necessitated that Jackie and Jillie be garbed against cold to the point where Muttluks joined their winter jackets.

It is my husband, not I, who patiently places each boot firmly on each little paw, drawing the tops of the boots midway up their legs, as protection against the elements. Unlike large dogs, small dogs can take only so much cold before extremes penetrate becoming painful. We were on the cusp of what they can tolerate, at minus-6 Celsius yesterday (it's much colder and windier today) when they can get by without boots, but because it was snowing and had been throughout the night and would continue all day, the cold plus the immersion of their tiny feet in fresh snow is more than they can tolerate.

Wearing the boots seems to inexplicably excite and incite them to greater leaps and bounds on the forest trails. We love watching them in their exuberant joy at being out in the woods, at their freedom to romp and to play and to challenge one another to speedier and more acrobatic excesses. Yesterday, all of Jillie's boots stayed on. On the other hand, one of Jackie's boots continually seemed to come loose and when that happened, he suddenly decelerated, stood still and lifted the offending boot still on his leg. It hadn't whipped off as Jillie's tend to do even though he is infinitely more given to wild leaping contortions than she is. But because the boot had slipped its moorings it was no longer comfortable, so he stood there, boot raised, awaiting our attention.

Which means I pick him up and my husband works with the boot on his foot until it's back in place. Then Jackie sets off once again until it happens again. And it happened three times yesterday, after which the boot finally stayed in place nice and firmly. If one of them happens to pick up something uncomfortable in one of their paws or on their legs and they're unable to dislodge whatever it is they will similarly signal to us they need help.

That two-way communication is amazing and fascinating to contemplate between humans and others of the animal kingdom.

Newton is very small and by temperament retiring, given to shyness. He stands half the height of our two rambunctious pups. At first Newton was nervous in their presence and would retreat, rather than cope with Jackie and Jillie's obstreperous behaviour. Now he is able to tolerate their presence and even at times initiate contact. They see one another fairly frequently since Newton lives right beside the ravine entrance. On occasion Janet takes him for a walk in the forest.

We were surprised on Sunday to see Newton out with Janet and Mike, strolling on a nearby trail, heading back up the long hill out of the ravine to get to their house. I don't imagine we've ever seen them all three out with the little fellow on any other previous occasion. And because it was quite cold, just on the cusp of when Jackie and Jillie would need protective doggy boots, Newton was garbed in coat just like our two and Muttluks.

We stopped to talk awhile and as we were discussing neighbourhood matters, the three little dogs conferred between themselves as well. It didn't take long however, before Newton was anxiously looking upward at Janet, wanting to be picked up. Janet wore a kind of sling around her shoulders where she could tuck Newton in and carry him and he obviously wanted to be carried. Newton adores Janet and she is aware of his needs, not as offhand as she was with his predecessor, a naughty little dog that used to torment our wee Riley.

Yesterday, with a high of minus-ten, we decided since there was plenty of loose snow down that our two needed boots finally, and on they went. They were patient while the boots were fitted on their feet and halfway up their legs. At first they reacted as they always do; lifting their legs like Lipizzaner horses, quite comically, then falling into a steady stride, their legs acquiring confidence and speed, though still being carried abnormally, flung out to the sides.

They love the snow and ripped through the trails. Particularly Jackie, whose legs pumped swiftly through it all in a wild race of sheer joy. We could actually hear the regular sound of his booted feet hitting the trails as he romped about. Then Jillie lost one of the boots and it was refitted to her leg because it was awfully cold out. After another ten minutes of scrambling about, although Jillie was nowhere near as agile and energetic as her brother, the same boot came off again and was again replaced.

When it happened for a third time with the very same boot, we just pocketed the boot and went along, Jillie unaware and uncaring, both of them having a rip-roaring good time, as though the boots themselves gave them increased energy. On the upside, they're comfortably warm with the boots, and when we bring them indoors there's no dirty paws to contend with. On the downside the boots are a trial to fit onto their little paws and legs, time-consuming and a nuisance. But, as the old saying goes, 'Oh well!'

And I was enormously pleased to find that someone had kindly picked up the cleats that had slipped off my boot the day before which I hadn't noticed until we arrived back at home, and placed it dangling from a bare tree branch. I retrieved it and now once again have a pair of flexible boot cleat fittings, along with the more rigid ones that I like to avoid wearing if possible.

We figured it would work out fine to take our two little dogs on their usual ravine circuit yesterday afternoon without boots. We'd awoken Sunday morning to the pleasant sight of the gloom of the days previous lifted through the presence of new snow. It was as heavily overcast yesterday as the days preceding it, but with the newfallen snow that sullen cast of a dark, brooding atmosphere was no longer evident.

And it was cold, the high was minus-four Celsius. As things turned out they were fine. They can take up to -7, and march pluckily along. We were on the lookout for slightly perturbing signs of discomfort from them. Jackie raised one of his back legs several times, but neither he nor Jillie stopped, frozen with the realization that their little paws were much too cold for a sustained walk.

While the temperature was sustainable, the fact that there was new, fresh snow on the ground sticking to their pads made the situation just on the cusp of tolerable for them. Had there been wind to exacerbate the cold, it might have been different. We got through our usual circuit without any problems, and once home, bathed their feet in warm water. Halfway up their legs there was crusted ice and snow, and it obligingly brushed off. After that it was getting the ice and snow out of the interstices of their paws before they were comfortable. They tend to try to bite the ice away.

And after that, free to disport themselves they went a little crazy as they so often do, rampaging upstairs, through the hall, into the various rooms, skidding, colliding, tussling, softly growling at one another until they exhausted the frenzy within. Actually Jackie had been energy-excited while we were out walking through the forest, as well. He threw himself into wild spurts of mad racing back and forth on the trails, with Jillie just barely in pursuit.

The new snow and the beauty that presented itself with the conifer boughs bending under their burden, everything covered and limned with snow is exquisite, and the thought of that sight brought quite a few people out with their dogs. It was Sunday, after all. And, since the wind was quiescent despite the cold and the lack of sun, our forest ramble was beyond pleasurable.

We did stop from time to time, to speak with some of our acquaintances, but not as frequently nor for as long as the day previous, when the wind was up despite the sun coming out occasionally, and though the temperature wasn't as low, we ended up feeling cold because of the gaps in our physical actions that led us to cool down in between spurts of energy.

This morning it was minus 16 when we got up, with the daytime high to be minus 10, so that's cold, and boots will be required. A nuisance to get on them, but they do become accustomed to walking with them, and the mild discomfort of being clad in boots protect them from the greater discomfort of ice gripping their little feet in a painful excess of cold exposure.

Dogs are not shy about their entitlement to treats. Nor are they averse to approaching perfect strangers on this very same issue. Not without cause, of course. Large dogs in particular whose height places their inquisitive snouts with their powerful ability to sniff out treats, just about the same height as the pocket of the jacket you're wearing where you've stuffed a bag of dog treats for such occasions.

Well, perhaps not those occasions in particular, rather to award your own dogs with treats when they exhibit behaviour that's commendable in your view. Like responding instantly when they're called. Which you'd like them to do in all situations. The alacrity of the response is usually in inverse proportion to the attraction that has taken their attention. Which is understandable; it's hard for us too to tear ourselves away when something truly tempting or interesting is the matter of our focus.

But early on our walk yesterday we came across a woman we see on rare occasions, and she wanted to tell us about an experience she'd had the day before. Yesterday was an opaque, grey day, so dark it resembled perpetual dusk. The day before the sun came out occasionally and the wind was less fierce. She had gone into the ravine at a distant entrance point to ours.

She recounted that she had felt an eerie feeling come over her. As though, somewhere very near, she was being steadily watched. She wasn't alone, she had her fair-sized Golden Retriever with her, a laid-back dog as they tend to be, but the dog didn't exhibit any hints it was aware of another creature nearby, not even when the woman finally realized that in a shadowy area between trees in the forest beyond there was another dog, the size of her own.

Only she soon amended that initial appraisal when she further examined the animal with its more slender conformation, its long, grey fur, its alert demeanor and piercing eyes that never left her face. We have heard, over the past five years, from a handful of people that they'd come across coyotes at dawn and dusk, usually in the winter months. Fearing for her dog, the woman shouted at the coyote and it slipped away, down the bank into the ravine.

So, we've been alerted. Our dogs are quite a bit smaller, the size of miniature poodles though they're  identified as toys, which explains their initial excitable, hostile manner when confronted by other dogs. Unleashed and with their tendency to stray before us on occasion -- Jillie more so than Jackie who tends to stay often beside us, though he also deviates -- we worry about their welfare. Even though we keep them in sight, if they were snatched we could never recover them. So we're torn about whether to keep them on leash, or not.

Yesterday was a Saturday, so there were plenty of people out with their dogs, large and small. The large ones aren't much of a concern, but the small ones, like Taz, a little Chihuahua and a Yorkie we had come across -- like our two -- could be a target for a predator. We were aware, on previous occasions in winters past when we had an influx of Barred and Snowy owls, that though we were thrilled to see those wonderful birds, they are raptors and are known to carry off small animals.

The presence of coyotes seen once again in the ravine was a topic of conversation of those we came across. The dogs, unconcerned, concentrated instead on sniffing out the contents of my jacket pocket. They're small cookies, just larger than a pill, to suit the size of our little dogs, but the big dogs love them too and kept nuzzling me to  keep emptying the little bag I kept them in, and I was glad to oblige.