Dolores, and her Dog

This morning the driller came to visit me, because he has an assistant and, basically, is not needed. He told me 36 times how he gets a kick out of seeing a girl working at the rig. And he’ll come and talk to me because he gets a kick out of it, but some of the others are scared to talk to me because something they say might get them into trouble. But he’s not and hegetsakickoutofhavingagirlontherigbecauseitsnotverycommon-andhe’llcometovisitmeandharassmebecausehegetsakickoutofit.

I don’t think he took a breath the entire 14.1 minutes he was in here.

He’d ask me a question and give me 1.2 milliseconds to answer before charging on to the next topic he got a kick out of.

Today’s Exploit:

Yesterday in the middle of my epic run I met Dolores, and her dog.

Dolores is one of the “gate guards” that check people in and out of location. Usually she is a hand waving out the door, letting me know I can keep driving without herds of oilfield mounted police chasing after me.

Yesterday she was walking her dog. Walking in the sense that she was walking and the dog was not.

The dog is probably the fattest Dachshund I have ever seen, it is definitely the fattest I ever hope to see. And I’ve seen some fat Weiner dogs. This dog was monumentally fat. It needs stilts to move its belly.

PS Who does this to their pets? Really, it’s cruel and unusual punishment.
What did that poor creature ever do to you?

Their walk consisted of Dolores pushing a baby buggy, outfitted with a cushy dog bed, up and down the bumpy, rocky, rutted road.

This dog is so fat it has to have a carriage. (Word thinks this dog is fast. HAHAHAHAHA. This dog IS a very demented, pitiful, training wheel; its not fast.)

Carriage dog also likes to bark. She’s not really on top of life, so she ends up barking at the dust settling after I run by (I really am that fast). This seriously worries Dolores. I hear her comforting the dog when I stop to walk over the ‘cattle gap’.

Fatty: Yap Yap Yapyapyap Yappy

Dolores: It’s OK, Big girl, it’s OK. Don’t worry. It’s OK. Shhhh.

Fatty: Pant pant pantpant.