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I will probably finish writing about dogs with a story about the adventures of Tom's Rottweiler, although if you like the story, there will be more. assortment there are also jokes about dog handlers.
So, it was in the spring of 1996 somewhere northeast of Moscow and west of Irkutsk on the left bank of the river dividing Siberia in half. The head unit with a four-digit number was to be disbanded and the guards of the colony were handed over to contract soldiers with grief in half. The service dog breeding nursery also faced many problems: staff, culling, balance, nutrition, training were generally postponed for later. I will not pour a lot of water, in short, the nursery did not know what to do with the already quite adult Rottweiler Tom. It was not possible to shove him out of the pre-trial detention center due to his age, it was impossible to reject him, he seemed healthy. In general, Rottweilers are not particularly needed for the colony (except perhaps in a punishment cell, PKT), they are designed to work indoors, but there were no such tasks ahead, the army training cycle was over, and a new incomprehensible contract cycle was just beginning. In general, Tom's rotor was installed on the PSO (free guarding post) on the perimeter of the colony. The tree stood out warm, the booth was insulated with felt straw, a curtain; in principle, there was no need to worry about a smooth-haired Tom until winter. Om quite quickly adapted to the service on the perimeter, found entertainment in the form of night hunting for rats and cats roaming in abundance at night, I would not say that the number of cats and rats had decreased, but their shards were periodically seen in the overgrown PSO grass. With the onset of cold weather, Tom's undercoat grew, the wool became coarse and began to curl like a lamb, in proportion to the frost, aggression on everyone increased and all passing changing of the guard was increasingly accompanied by growls, digging into the Netting Net with fangs, tearing the maw with wire and sprinkling the snow with blood. By the way, he sometimes ran away, gnawing through the net, the hole was patched up, and then everything was repeated. That year the frosts were normal - Siberia after all, but Tom survived. After the winter, Tom was assigned to a transport checkpoint, he sat in the cage during the day and was tethered at night. and in the winter something happened to the head of the rotor, he obeyed only the counselor and the veterinarian. for some reason he took a car tire and did not part with it, he loved, cared for and cherished. he was also dragged out for training: the young dog handler was traditionally "baptized" in a dress suit and the head of the canine department wanted the young to feel the jaws of a powerful dog on his skin before using a special tool (dog) against people. About Tom, either he forgot what to do or did not want to, instead of dressing he snatched the head of the dog handlers by the hand, biting his watch - no figs to wave his hands. Hell, the boss, of course, also mocked, the old dog handler, what organ in the watch got in? And in general, the dog handler is famous for the absence of scars from dog bites. As a result, they decided to discard Tom and one of the counselors gladly took him to his village.
P. ... among other things, the fresh air, the grass of the perimeter and the veterinary assistant's treatment did their job, as the counselor said, before writing off Tom, he ran him to a fermenting bitch (which is strictly prohibited) of a slightly different breed, where Tom indulged in pure and selfless love before leaving for the village.
How I got a diploma in the army
It was a checkpoint outfit. The weather was good, minus 20 degrees Celsius, the wind was weak, the snow was crunchy. The service is also nothing. Everything was calm, I would even say that it was peaceful. We carry out access control, i.e. we fire through the window. Face / gait / car - familiar, missed, reported on the radio. You sit yourself listening to music on the radio, you already know all the songs better than the performers, because the radio station was caught alone, and the songs are the same (some of them, when I hear somewhere, it already twists). We sit, chatting with a colleague and a checkpoint officer, bikes and jokes we poison, each more beautiful than the other. And then, out of nowhere, a body in military uniform appears on the horizon. The body is not familiar, the face and gait too. So, sir, then we check the lists. A colleague (let it be Kolyan), as usual, rested on the toilet, with the words: "schA will quickly rush!". This meant that he was there for a long time. This one knew how to hit the road "in time". I don’t know what he could do there for half an hour at times, either he had problems with his stomach, or he was watching porn from his phone, I don’t know, he didn’t hold a candle. The bottom line is that we are left alone with the attendant, and the body is approaching. Then a call rings out, the cell phone of the person on duty. Apparently his wife, because he has changed a lot in his face (he became at the same time serious and scared, the peasant is 35 years old, strong, like a rock, an athlete, I'm afraid to imagine what kind of wife is there). In short, the duty officer leaves the checkpoint on the territory of the unit, with the words: "KoJl4ak, I know that you can handle it alone, you won't let you down!" I was left alone. Watching the approach of the body. For me, the task is simple, nothing complicated, but just the day before the unit commander just bothered to remind that there are only American spies and pid * races everywhere, and our unit is secret and everyone really wants to get to us, uh-huh. In short, everyone is naughty, I'm the only one relaxed. I got used to the fact that there is usually silence and calmness with such announcements. Ok, the body enters, in a brazen, very familiar movement (too familiar, suspiciously) pushes back special latches that prevent the "turntable" from spinning in the narrow corridor of the checkpoint, but I already stand in front of it, in the hands of a folder with lists of servicemen from other units, who is eligible to visit our unit. Military salute (they give honor to the whore), private such and such, I immediately evaluate who by rank, etc. You, tarsch lieutenant, from which part? Says that from "ten" (do not ask, just "ten", not VAZ). Ok, I remove unnecessary folders, at the same time I fix it again, on the machine, all the same turntable, but with one latch. Please show your pass, he gets it. Look. Everything seems to be ok, a photo of the rules, well, in the sense of the face is the same, name, rank, stamps (there is no special pass), everything is in place, everything is fine. And then I look closely at the photo, and there is already a whole major judging by the shoulder straps (for those who do not know, one medium-sized star in the middle of the shoulder straps, I hope I explained it clearly)! Oops. I say, wait, tarsh "lieutenant", I will now clarify something with the person on duty at KaPePe. I turn around, open the door, with facial expressions and gestures I attract the sergeant's attention. He furiously brushes me off, chatting on the phone, but I show with gestures how I run a "knife", that is, with my thumb across my throat, and then I show a "fig" (I fucking know why I did this then). For that there was an effect, the sergeant was freaked out, apparently from my gestures, ended the conversation, enters the checkpoint. I explain the situation, I say, call the headquarters, we have Spillon here! As soon as I uttered these words, this "lieutenant-major" turns sharply, buries his stomach in the turntable, it keeps on one latch. This comrade literally climbs over it, I would even say it flies over and rushes to the checkpoint door. The person on duty and I are standing, exchanging glances, the fugitive's documents are in my hands. The sergeant gives out: "I fucking know what he ran, but you, come on, catch him or what?" Super. I was only taught this for 8 months of service, yeah. (We were screwed on fire, I would tell me, there is a target - the task is to hit, I would be easy). Well, my business is small, there is an order, I have to carry it out, especially since if this miracle escapes, then they can put it on their lips. And even in the disbat, but this is not a fairy tale, this is a period. Throwing lists and documents to the sergeant, darting away from the place that your gazelle. Quite quickly I catch up with the spy, shouting: "Stop beast!" Runs. Damn, what can I do? And the road, along which we arranged sprint races, is located on an embankment, below only a ravine, and a swamp (such a small swamp). Well, I couldn't think of anything better than pushing him there. Collided with the body, the body fell. I go down, turn over onto my stomach, put my hands behind my back. So, yeah, and then what? And then the waist belt, which was on the pea jacket, went into action. He somehow screwed on something, tied his hands behind his back (well, damn it, I’m not a sailor, but it seemed like I kept the norms, the belt was old, it was already soft, I got it from my grandfathers), I helped to get up, I was taking him to the checkpoint impromptu knot. It seems to be going quietly, almost approached, and then he starts yelling at me that he will put me in jail, that I have exceeded my authority and other heresy. Garbage, I did not let generals at the checkpoint, if they were not on the lists, or if there was no special seal, which was like a "travel pass" in our division. Of course, these seals changed from time to time, they had to be known, both new and old. Anyway. I'm looking for a body at the checkpoint, and there are a lot of people there. The following I describe from the words of the sergeant that he was on duty at the checkpoint with me.
I, says how you ran, immediately began to call the headquarters, reported in the form, said that the "inspector" had started to run away (and in general, if the check was burned, then no one usually runs anywhere, officer / the contractor is standing, waiting quietly, until you or the person on duty report, he also listens to how you make the report, whether he described all the important information, etc. This is all taken into account. In short, the people at the headquarters rustled, they almost gathered to announce the alarm, but The information spread quickly, and now they are running to the checkpoint: the chief of staff, who is in charge of the unit (lieutenant colonel), the head of the HRT service (major), and began to sweep (also a lieutenant colonel, passed by). They come running (quickly, because the headquarters is nearby), together with the sergeant, they observe the picture of me "boarding" the fugitive, going down into the ravine, a minute later I emerge from there with the prisoner, who is covered in mud, despite the presence of snow (remember, there is shallow, but a ravine, the area is swampy). They watched this picture with concentration and silence.
As a result, it turned out that this was really a fly, that he was with the FSB from that very "dozen" (yes, we had our own FSB officers in the division, at least they were called that), he was transferred there recently ( well, well, he was transferred, either he gave it to his paw, or through connections). Neighing. He was on such a "mission" for the first time, well, and his colleagues apparently pinned him over him, they instructed him that he must run if he burned. In short, everyone was neighing, this captain called me cheeky and mad, asked if all the soldiers here are like that, or I'm just an idiot. They neighing again, they let him into the unit, as everyone reported and made notes, they treated him to tea at the headquarters. When the officers left, the chief of staff asks me what my name and surname are? Such and such a takoytovich, with such and such a calculation. He nodded, slapped me on the shoulder, and left.