When I was growing up, from the age of about 13 till I married and moved away, we had a dog named Bud. He was a loving and gentle German Sherpard, and came equipped with his very own frisbee! Sometimes he would "escape" out of the back yard, and
our neighbor would come knocking at the door telling us Bud was sitting in the back of my mini-truck again - Frisbee in mouth - waiting patiently for someone... anyone..... to come drive him to the park to play. What a smile that brings to my face today!!! When I married, my folks kept him for about a year, but then they were relocating to the desert, and we were still in an apartment that couldn't have pets. So we found a home for him with a friend who was moving to a ranch up in northern California. Bud lived for about 8 more happy years on that ranch. Our friend kept us updated with letters and pictures. Stories of Bud playing with the grandkids, playing with the livestock, and overall - having the run of the place, (having the "fun" of the place.) Bud lived a happy and loving life with 3 different families over his lifetime. Each who loved him
and still miss him today. He passed away when he was 18 years. He is buried under a tree on the ranch. A fine pooch he was. A fine friend he was. And last but not least.... a FINE frisbee champion he was!