Wednesday, December 15, 2010

New Dog--decidedly NOT helpful.

So I'm loading ammunition. I've got the wood stove going in the reloading shop and it's all nice and cozy and peaceful.

Enter New Dog, my velcro buddy who can't seem to stand to be more than ten feet away from me at any given time.

First he decides that he doesn't like or trust the brass tumbler. It's just sitting there on the floor, minding it's own business as it whirs away making old fired brass new and shiny again. Well New Dog seems to suspect it of subversion, because he keeps growling at it. I tell him to quit, and he barks at it defiantly then swats it with his paw a couple of times.
"I was talking to YOU," I tell New Dog.

He leave the tumbler along for a few minutes, and I've almost forgotten that he was in the shop when he walks through an area where I have several small boxes of brass in various stages of processing sitting on the floor. Does he step over or around any of these open boxes? Nope. He steps ON them and spills several of them, flipping brass cartridge cases all over the place and co-mingling them all nicely.

I gently chide him and set about picking the damned things up. Meanwhile, he goes over and re-engages his nemesis, the brass tumbler, again. "RrrrrrrrUFF! RUFF! RUFF!"

"LEAVE IT!"

Big sigh.

I go back to work, and shortly, I crush a casing with the press. I remove it from the shell holder and toss it across the room into a big tub that I have that is filled with damaged or rejected brass. Courtesy of the Browning machine gun and it's healthy appetite for berdan-primed brass, the tub's fairly full. Enter New Dog. He saw me toss the single .45 casing across the room and he ran over to the brass tub and began DIGGING for whatever treasure just landed in there. I hear the brass jingling and I look over to see him standing there with his two front paws in the tub raking through the brass. Naturally, there's now a sizable quantity of brass from that tub rolling around on the shop floor.

"GET OUT OF THERE!!!"

Somewhat chagrined but not done with the mischief-making yet, he scampers off as I grab the broom and dustpan to pick up the brass. A few moments later, he manages to find a large trash box filled with that stupid huge bubble wrap packing material that the folks at Midway USA use to pack tiny items snugly in very large boxes. This stuff consists of large green air packs about six inches long and 2-3 inches in diameter that are all connected in long chains. New Dog decided that these are the greatest toy ever and commences to pulling the long chains of of the box that I've put them all in and he starts jumping on them and biting them trying to pop every last bubble.

OK, this is kinda funny to watch, but then he begins to eat the plastic so I have to take it away from him and make sure that it's all picked up and put away somewhere out of his reach. And this takes a few minutes, because while there's just one me, there's lots of this bubble wrap (Thanks, Midway!) and he's prancing around the shop with chain after chain of the stuff, just having a great time popping it and doing his best to keep it away from me.

I finally gave up so we're back upstairs now. I'm typing and he's laying happily next to my chair with just one eye kept on the stairwell door in case that tumbler comes up wanting another piece of him.

Dogs...

12 comments:

  1. LOVE LOVE LOVE this story!!! You guys are going to get along like peas and carrots! I was afraid that he would be lacking in personality but it sounds like he is taking up right where his predecessor left off.

    And see? He is trying to tell you he likes guns... and that his name should be Ruger.

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  2. Wish we had video! This is a match made in heaven.

    N.D. is his name, for "New Dog," pronounced like the protagonist in Indiana Jones movies -- "Indy."

    Our black lab is "helpful" like that!

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  3. The story could be recast with a three year old human instead of a dog and you wouldn't have to change a word to make it true to life.
    It's all about wanting attention.

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  4. Oh I like the N.D. "Indy" suggestion! I've been meaning to inquire, where do you get these dogs? Is it a rescue? Do they have a website?

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  5. Heather, this one came from a German Shepherd rescue organization. Google "German Shepherd Rescue" and your state--or rescue for the dog of your choice--and you'll probably find plenty of nice dogs who need good homes.

    For finding this guy, I indirectly credit Virginia German Shepherd Rescue at http://www.shepherdrescue.org/

    He wasn't one of their dogs per se, but in talking to people there, I found him in an adjoining state.

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  6. One more name suggestion;

    Randolf

    "That dog done ranned off again"

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  7. We need pictures of the New Dog vs the tumbler

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  8. hahahaha!!!! That's funny!!

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  9. You realize of course that he is a German SHEPHERD, not a German Reloader Assistant. Get him a dozen sheep and watch him do his thing.

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  10. Good grief. You sure manage to find the dogs with the best personalities.
    He sounds like another winner. You guys are going to be quite a pair.

    And, yes, a rescue is the best place to find a dog. They are eternally grateful and that's why they stay on you like glue. They know a good thing when the find one.

    Too bad they don't have "rescues" for singles so you can find yourself a good woman who has such personality. ;-) And who doesn't say asinine things halfway through your date. :-)

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  11. LOL- And you're loving it :-) (well, MOST of the time)...

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  12. Gee, Ed. Just wait until he gets his new doggie back-pack...the one with a compartment for his food and water and a second one for a 100-round belt of linked machine gun ammunition. With any luck, I can figure some way to attach a spare barrel carrier, too.

    Adapt the dog to the job. That's what I say.

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