Part I, The Problem:
In the 1800's, groups of English settlers, convicts and other unsuspecting souls travel halfway around the world to colonize a balmy paradise known as Australia. They bring sheep, cattle and their Highland Collies to herd them.

Contrary to the picturesque travel brochures offered by the authorities back home, they find the weather in Australia to be a bit Biblical, and we're not talking about the moist kind. Their Collies either pack their bags and head for home or burst into flames and blow away within minutes of being exposed to the beautiful tropical sun.

What's a desperate colonist to do?

Part II, The Solution:
OK, so we have this sorry group of herders whose dogs are of little use besides becoming spontaneous camp fires from time to time. Their livestock are running loose, cleaning out the liquor cabinet, making long distance phone calls, etc. Something has to be done.

They notice the aborigines' dogs (Dingoes) aren't on fire. Sure, they are an unholy red color, but that could just be an unusually high concentration of uranium in the drinking water.

Some genius thinks Hey, why don't we introduce our Collies to the native Dingoes? If it works maybe we'll get a dog that can herd cattle without bursting into flames and turning them all into steaks. At worst we'll just invoke Satan's fury, and I don't see how he could make it any worse around here.

At this point a few of the colonists choose (C.) Leave the Continent. They get back on the subway, ride a few more stops, and settle in Tahiti.

The remaining colonists strike a deal with the Aborigines who's response of "Ug mav kee woo hut" translates roughly into "Sure, why not, we're bored. If it doesn't work out we'll just sell the puppies to the Koreans."

And thus the beast known as an Australian Cattle Dog was born. It is a nearly indestructable working dog, whose traits are intelligence, strength and endurance. It's mission in life is when kicked by a steer, to climb down out of the tree it landed in, run back to the steer and kick its butt.

Thanks to careful breeding, they come in the same trendy colors that are popular with new car buyers, red and blue.

Part III, I take the plunge:
Anytime I mention what kind of dog I have to someone knowledgeable about dog breeds, their face goes blank and slightly pale. They ask, "Do you realize what you've done ?!?" I respond "Yes, I know what I bought, I am just a masochist." "OK then, as long as you understand what you have done."

This stigma undoubtedly comes from poorly trained examples. They are very intelligent and very intense. Just as with human children, if you spend the time to raise them with love and discipline, they are a joy to all. If you are a slacker, you end up with a bundle of pure evil that will eat your house and steal your credit cards.