I'm afraid he didn't get a qualifying leg in either. Sometimes a dog has to do it his own way. Tag's way did not involve jumping on a table today. In fact, he's pretty sure he didn't see a table anywhere on the course. That big flat thing in front of him was certainly NOT a table and there was no way he was going to jump on it. He'd never seen anything like it. Never. It was best just to look the other way.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, er, suburbia, Skid was having his own problems. He didn't like the grass in my parents backyard. No way. Absolutely not. He would not walk on that weird green stuff for love, leash nor money. This created a little problem. Where was he to poop? I decided to wait him out. He couldn't hold it forever. Could he? We'll never know 'cause after 48 hours I gave in and drove him to the local park where he felt much better about letting go, so to speak. This dog has pooped all across North America but for some reason, he had his issues.
Tomorrow is our last day here in suburbia before we head over to visit a friend in the high desert above Los Angeles. This is where we will do the dog portion of the vacation which involves a little herding and swimming in the lake. We plan to spend our last day here exposing my parents pool filter to a little border collie and mutt hair.