Red, the Big Red Dog

I enjoyed this title way too much.

Today’s Exploit:

There’s a dog at this rig. It’s big and friendly and furry and red and very round. I’m pretty sure he thinks he owns this rig. He goes up to the rig floor and lies in the mud and pesters and follows anyone who will pay a bit of attention. I heard one of the roughnecks call him Red. Fitting.

Red also has lots and lots of fur. I feel bad for him since it’s 837 degrees here now. But Red flops down in the shade, sometimes in the grass, or in the cooled mud on the rig floor. He is perpetually filthy.

The first time I saw Red I was building the tool for another run. I talked to him and continued with my chore. When I kneeled to join a couple pieces Red was 3 inches from my face pushing my hands with his nose. I petted him for a bit and kept on with my dialogue. But apparently I was not working hard enough, because he kept nudging my other hand.

Every so often, while I’m waiting on the rig floor Red will come up and demand attention by trying to knock me over, rubbing against my legs like a cat. Red is far better at covering me with dirt and filth than even I am. That takes talent.

Tonight, after all the big important chores were done and I was reduced to finishing the paperwork, the DD came in to the box.

Dane: Man that dog’s big. I think it has some St. Bernard in it.

Me: Yes, I could see that.

Dane: I just found out it’s pregnant.