On a sheep station way out west, the life of a dog was simply the best. Red and Blue were in charge of the mob and they really did love their job.
Each morning started with biscuits and bread and a scratch and a shake as they jumped out of bed. Then off to work they would go.
They were the fastest, the others were slow.
Red looked at Blue and Blue looked at Red, and a puzzled question entered their heads. If Blue was like Red and as red as Red, then why was he called “Blue” instead?
They scratched their heads. They hadn’t a clue, but they still stuck together like glue.