We have been trying now, for what seems like a long time, to manage KiKi’s behaviour. Her unpredictability has been a major factor. The struggle to understand how she feels and why she reacts as she does goes on. In broad terms, obviously, surprises don’t usually turn out to be good experiences, that much is clear. Many of our walks are arranged to minimise the likelihood that we will suddenly find another dog nearby without time to ready ourselves.

Today’s experience offered a perverse comfort of sorts in our journey. We often walk in the tidal marshes beyond the sand dunes a couple of miles from home. Dead flat, the terrain allows us to see, from the centre, maybe half a mile in almost every direction. Here I feel able to let KiKi rush and leap and scent to her hearts content, confident that her recall is improving and that I can have her on a leash again if we need to before any strange dogs arrive.

At the far edge of the place, I can see another dog walker and two dogs. They are maybe 400 yards distant, KiKi 20 or 30 feet from me, I can’t see it being a problem at first, but I keep watch on them all nonetheless. Leica, needless to say is at my heel. The wind off the sea must be carrying our scent towards the other dogs, I see them both halt and stand together, heads pointed in our direction with their owner 40 or 50 feet behind them.

In times past, this would have signalled nothing to me but now things are different. As I reach for the leash in my pocket and call KiKi back, the dogs in the distance bolt. I can see the marsh water splashes as they streak towards us, their owner calling frantically and following them, hopelessly outpaced over the wet, boggy ground. KiKi is as yet unaware, and comes when called. The distance between us is more than halved. I put a leash on both KiKi and Leica and begin to move away. Pretty soon I realise that I have to figure out how best to deal with what is about to happen. The dogs are not slowing in their approach, their owner is far behind and KiKi will soon see or hear them. I can’t yet gauge whether their intentions are playful or aggressive, but even if it proves to be the former I’m fairly sure that the element of surprise will make KiKi react in a dramatic fashion and the situation could quickly escalate. I turn in the direction of the onrushing dogs and, calling both Leica and KiKi to heel, we stop and stand our ground. I’m hoping that by squaring ourselves towards the dogs that they will reconsider any direct assault and give their owner time to bring them under control.

The two dogs are perhaps a “Utility” breed of some kind, maybe Pointer or Beagle mix, similar in size to KiKi. Leica and KiKi see them now. KiKi stiffens visibly and strains forward slightly but makes no sound. Arriving together, the two dogs slow, uncertain about what to do next, and then they separate, moving one left and one right, they bark and dart as if trying to find an opening. I keep both leashes short, Leica and KiKi both pressed against my legs and call out to the other dogs. Careful not to sound angry or threatening, I’m hoping that KiKi will not interpret my reaction as a signal that she should react aggressively. At least it’s clear that the dogs are not fully committed to attack, they keep a distance, moving constantly they hold us at bay. I try to make sure neither of them can encircle us and approach from behind.

Their owner arrives, out of breath and clearly distressed, she calls both dogs off and quickly attaches their leashes. Calling out her apologies she moves off almost as quickly as she arrived.

We wait until they have moved off before going on, careful to make sure that our paths diverge before letting KiKi loose again. She shakes herself vigorously and rolls on her back to destress herself. While the situation was quite unsettling, I am actually quite pleased with how she behaved in so far as she didn’t react uncontrollably to the confrontation.

A while later, as Leica and KiKi get back in the car I see the other dogs and their owner coming over the ridge and into the car park. Perhaps as a result of all that has gone on over the past few months, I feel like I should at least attempt a conversation with the other dog owner. It turns out both her dogs are ‘Rescues’ too, from a horrific puppy-farming operation. Her story about their gradual rehabilitation and the anxiety it has caused her in trying to mend them seems familiar. She too has chosen this place to exercise her dogs because of the isolation and security it usually offers. We talk for a few minutes about our experiences with our adopted dogs and move on.