Frieda can get into more trouble crossing the yard than most dogs get into in a year. I remembered today why I named her the “Helldog,” she can look at the camera and melt your heart, but this dog is a handful. I decided to take her out with me to close up the chicken coop – she is usually confined to a road or on a leash as this house is too close to a road to risk one of her spectacular breakouts. She took off after Minnie and chased her into the barn, then veered off to the North and went after the chickens. Cats and poultry were scattering in every direction and I anticipated her, headed her off and got  her into a lie down.

Frieda is a force of nature, explosive, incorruptible, incorrigible. No harm was done, and I have to confess I am glad her spirit hasn’t been taken away from her. She is dozing sweetly by my feet.