You'd think we'd be sick of taking pictures of sheep on the road, but it is such a culture shock to us North Americans, it is almost like being on a domestic safari.
The trial was fun. According to Eric Halsall (I'll have to find which book I read it in) years and years ago after a sheepdog trial the working dogs would also be in a contest for looks. This trial continued that tradition for fun and everyone including top handlers like Thomas Longton and Richard Faucett put their dogs in. It was quite funny to see all these muddy, wet dogs lined up. My handsome Craig got a prize, losing in the final to a six year old girl's dog, with the judge giving me a wink. It was a good laugh.
The trial was a success for all of us as well, with Linda's young dog winning the novice class, my Craig finishing 3rd and Mary Lou's Dyna finishing 6th. Richard Faucett, a very nice man whom we chatted with in depth, won the trial and Thomas Longton, our host, was 4th. The sheep were touchy and would go over top of a dog and apparently hadn't been penned at the trial in two years. This year seemed better, but since it was pen, then shed, the pen was critical and we all had good in-bye work.
After another beautiful drive back and we went out with Thomas to celebrate his birthday and returned home exhausted.
As we were all falling asleep, a loud bang resonated through the house. At first I thought perhaps a dog had knocked something over, but then I heard a knock at my door. Mary Lou was at my door with a big smile on her face, trying to maintain her composure. Her bed had collapsed, or so she described. With all of us laughing uncontrollably, Linda and I entered Mary Lou's room, expecting to help her rebuild the bed. We were surprised to see a perfectly normal looking bed. Mary Lou insisted the bed had broken, and indeed we had all heard the thud. Looking under the bed, which was supported by slats, one had popped out and fallen to the floor, leaving a gap for the mattress to sag through. We fixed it as a team, and then with big smiles on our faces, retired to our rooms for a luxurious contented sleep.
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