Fail! Fail, you say!
Our foster dog #49 became our dog #3.
From Frido, his shelter name, to Fred/Freddie.
Fred is a 10 pound mutt with a splash of Corgi dna, with perfect Corgi coloring and shadings. Physically, his appearance is nothing like a Corgi.
Funny story, from one of our many camping trips.
First you need to know Fred responded to the noise made by a skateboard as a call to arms, we must attack! attack! attack!
His first camping trip to our very favorite State Park.
We arrive and begin camp setup.
Wife sets Fred up in a shady spot with his crate, finding nothing to secure his leash to, she foolishly attaches the leash to the crate. Bad idea. Meanwhile, I am busy doing the heavy lifting of setup.
Short time later, here comes a kid on a skateboard in the road, of course, Fred being true to type goes after the poor kid.
All I see is Fred at full speed headed straight for the kid, with his crate bouncing along behind him.
The kid stops in his tracks in the face of the charging dog.
I call ¨FRED¨ using the tone the dog knows is whatever I am doing I better stop right now or be in trouble with dad.
All these years later, Freddie is gone, I still chuckle whenever I think of it.
