This morning I had to take Murphy into the vet again for a reoccurring ear infection. And of course if I take Murphy anywhere, Belle has to come, too. So the three of us loaded up the truck and headed into town.
Once at the vet, the vet assistant told me to take Murphy's leash and collar off so that she could put their leash on him. I smiled and said "You haven't worked with this dog yet, have you?" She admitted that she had not, but she apparently didn't get the hint from my question because she told me again to unleash him. So I did, after putting Murphy in a "sit". He sat perfectly until she tried to put her leash around his neck, at which point, he ducked her and bolted, beginning yet another game of "catch me if you can, vet lobby edition".
I'll get the assistant credit; she did try gamely. But Murphy's really good at not being caught so he took her on a couple of circuits of the lobby and then once down the hall to the exam rooms and back again, somehow getting past her in that narrow hall. But as he came back out into the lobby again, still unleashed, I snagged him. You could almost hear him screaming "FOUL!" as he was properly leashed and dragged into the back. Sorry, buddy--it's for your own good.
Once free of Murphy, I went for breakfast and them down to the range to test one final modification to my .30-30 load.
It was also a test of Belle to see how she'd handle gunfire as I parked the truck behind the range shop, leaving all of the windows on the firing side up. I was the only one there, so the noise levels weren't too bad, but after I fired my test rounds, I went back to check on her and she was shaking and quaking and trying to hide behind the spare tire. Poor girl. Because she just wasn't digging it, I decided not to play with my AR-15 this morning. Instead, I just checked one new .45LC load for Point of Aim and discovered that a six o'
cock clock hold on orange sporting clays at 25 yards will put a 255gr. bullet on the cay every time that I do my part. I'm as pleased with this round as I am with the .30-30 load.
This pistol was my concealed-carry piece for the day, too. (That is, if a full-size .45 Long Colt in a Cowboy-style belt holster with an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt covering it counts as "concealed" in your world.)
I then went back t the vet, picked up Murphy and his new medicine, parted with another hundred bucks, and took the dogs for a walk downtown because Belle was a peach and because the vet said that Murphy was well-behaved once I was gone. (Ass-dog.)
Here they are, walking down the street.
They work well together, seldom tangle, and move aside when other people approach. We did have a moment when a fire truck came by with it's siren blaring, though. Murphy naturally kicked into Howl Mode and began wailing right along with it, as he always does. I expected that so I wasn't surprised. what did surprise me though was when Belle suddenly pointed
her muzzle skyward and began to howl as well. She's not done this before, far as I know. But the two of them sat right there on the sidewalk in front of the post office, yowling away in two-part dog harmony even after the fire truck was gone. Lucky me, I've got two siren monsters now.
On the way back to the truck, we stopped in front of the Needful Things store so that Murphy and Belle could pose with one of their favorite comic characters:
Yeah, it's been one of those pretty good days so far. And now we're home, and I have guns to clean, and...DAMMIT! I forgot to buy BEER while I was in town. And now I'm out.
This day sucks, man.
