I haven't posted here in awhile…mostly because I haven't done anything really worth posting about.  I don't have a dog to run, although P*trick has generously lent me his Rose to use for setout here and there.  I've also worked her a little bit on sheep.

I want to say that Rose is a sports car, but not only is that a tired metaphor, but it really does both vehicle and driver a disservice.  I could drive a sports car.  A sports car is NOT going to attach ITSELF to the side of a pedestrian, say a j-walker or some errant runner crossing at the end of the blinking hand, the car will not accelerate madly, careeing onto the sidewalk to chase down the offender…
A car will not ignore my frantic breaking and honking for it to SLOW DOWN or STOP GODDAMN IT!
(Or …anyway, you don't see those features advertised.  Maybe in Europe.)

A sportscar has more range than just 120 mph and stop.

I love Rose, though.  She's small the way a handgun is small.  And she will stop a ewe just as certainly.  She is sweet and intense and talented.  She's a tough little bitch.  She has a tattoo on her forleg of a yield sign with a red slash through it.
Not really.
Really.
No. I lie. 
She does NOT lie.

We're running non-compete this weekend at the Western Idaho Fair trial, I think.  It will be fun in the way of 100 year disasters.  We've NEVER practiced on a course.  She often seems surprised to see me standing in the field, sometimes in the way, when we're working.  Lately she's been listening to me more, though.  We are very fond of one another.  I'm grateful, once again, to the P*trick for letting me use her.  I think she'd say the same.

We'd be thinking of different things, though.

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