Sheepdog Fan Fiction – OPERATION FIN-EXFIL

Had to do another one after hundreds of you sent me the picture:

“Did you remember to pack food?” Kim yelled from the kitchen to Scott, her husband of 5 years. “Kim. Please, I got this.” he replied in what his wife would describe as a tone. If there’s one thing that got under his skin, it was when Kim played the role of the concerned mother. “I’m a prepper and a Sheepdog for God’s sake…” Scott mumbled under his breath, shaking his head as he bent down to tie the laces on his pristine white Nike Air Monarchs, only spoken loud enough for their french bulldog (Leonidas) and the baby, Finnigan Gaston in close proximity to hear. Finnigan was his wife’s idea… the compromise was Gaston (an obvious homage to Glock) as a middle name. Scott went through his usual mental checklist every time he took Finnigan out for a walk:

✓ Plate carrier with baby holding compartment
✓ Serpa retention holster with the FNS .40 loaded with G2 Research R.I.P Ammo
✓ Progressive lenses with aftermarket anti-wolf coating
✓ Snacks (formula for Finnigan – Gushers, lemon LaCroix, and beef jerky for himself)
✓ Diapers and wipes

Scott did a quick COMMs check, looking at the screen and verifying that his iPhone 6s was indeed connected to the 4G network. “Alright Finnigan, you ready to rock & roll?” Scott said into the baby bassinet as he picked the little guy up, placing him in the plate carrier compartment. “Be still sweet prince… shhhhhh…” Scott whispered to Finnigan and kissed him on the forehead as the boy fussed a bit. Lastly Scott removed the FNS .40 from the Serpa, doing a quick press check before grabbing his house key dangling from the thin-blue-line sheepdog “flock protector” emblazoned lanyard, hanging on the artisan wrought iron hooks near the front door light switch. “Remember, If we’re not back in one hour, call SWAT for assistance Kimberly. I don’t want you out there looking for me with wolves prowling around. Let my fellow men of arms handle it. I love you!” Scott said as he opened the front door, miming throwing a flashbang onto the porch before conducting Finnigan’s EXFIL.




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