Yesterday I didn't get to the range because we had freezing rain all day and because I had some plumbing work to do in the crawlspace beneath the Lair. Eric, a good friend who knows such work well, came over help. (and by "help", I mean do the work while I sat there and watched.)
Murphy and Belle know Eric, and after he came in and petted them for a bit, they went back to doing whatever it is that dogs do and we went down the basement and under the house to do what we were doing.
As we worked, I noticed that Belle was back upstairs napping on her bed or playing with a toy, because she's more of a Yellow Lab trapped in a Shepherd's body, but Murphy hung around the basement pretty much the whole time that we were down there, and he's not particularly fond of the basement normally. It's unheated and drafty and pretty cluttered with my junk, and usually, when I'm down there reloading ammunition, he won't stay down there by me even if I call him down. But this time, with Eric over, he was down there pretty much the whole time. And a coupe of times, when we got to be laughing over something or when Eric burned his hand on a hot, freshly-soldered pipe (snicker), as soon as a voice was raised in that crawlspace, Murphy's head would poke in, ears straight up and eyes focused like a laser beam on Eric until he was sure that Eric hadn't suddenly become a threat to the boss. I may have been relaxed and enjoying myself, but Murphy was still on guard and watching over me, even with a person that he knew.
It's nice to know that no matter what, I've got a pair of eyes and a set of teeth watching my back.
Now if you'll excuse me, it's errand time, and one of those errands is the range.