"Hmm, I wonder if we can train him," he said, indicating our own
"Border terriers, even proper ones, are not the same as border collies," I reminded him but, not to be deterred, he began trying to put Paddy through his paces.
Paddy put his head up to be stroked and wagged his tail as Keith tutted in disgust.
Bearing in mind that I don't generally let him off his lead when we're out anyway because, if he spots a cat, rabbit or squirrel, he would be halfway to Chester before I could say 'Jack Robinson' (or anything else for that matter), and we have cows round here, rather than sheep, I can't really see that there would be many opportunities for him to hone his (obviously non-existent) skills anyway.
"It's just not in his genes," I say.
Of course, now we know someone who does have a sheep - in his back garden!
I'll be round with Paddy tomorrow, YP.