This weekend is the Athena Caldonia Games, which Lavon keeps calling the 'Colonial Games' henceforth I'm going with that.

Along with big hairy men in tartan kilts, throwing logs and playing bagpipes there will be the annual SHEEPDOG TRIAL held on a local high school FOOTBALL FIELD! THERE IS A BEER GARDEN! Meat on a stick! Music no one can dance to!

This is exactly as I imagine my prom would have been, metaphorically, 30ish years ago in Northern Idaho, had I not dropped out of school to follow my 'dream' and my mother's 'nightmare'.

Lavon is Basque. He really doesn't know Caldonea from Colonial. Throw in a Calzone or some cologne…and you might as well not even bother explaining why you unpacked all his pants and replaced them with plaid skirts from the thrift store. And a bonnet.

I don't even know how many dogs I'm running, or who, because Lavon sent in both our entries. I know I'm running Boot, his young dog, whom I've only sort of worked twice before. Boot and I are good friends…but who knows how it will work on the field. I picture a good time to insert a bagpipe if ever there was one, outside of Braveheart.

Lavon might be running Jai, I can't remember. Jai is in the Kitchen with the Curse, bleeding on everything from one end and licking with the other. Which means that my running Jack will be as memorable and inspiring as smallpox.
It's a small trial, Open, PN, Novice and Nursery…plus a jackpot time and points event Saturday evening. It's a good time. The sort of good time this country was founded on.

I wish I had a powdered whig for Jai and Lavon. Next year. This year they both have enough strikes against them, what with no underwear and the wind.