Taming the Brass Nut

My morning patrol stopped cold before a stubborn golden obstacle! A thick, heavy brass hexagonal nut lay half-sunk in the tar gravel, glinting like an insolent challenger under the sun. An unmovable boulder in my trench? Never! I planted both clawed feet deep into the black stones, lowered my snout, and clamped my jaws around its sharp metal ridge. Grrr... with a mighty twist of my neck, I wrenched it loose from the dried tar! Pop! Dirt flew. I didn't leave it rolling; I dragged the heavy ring straight to my parapet ledge, wedging it upright into a concrete crevice as a solid iron ring for my territory. Gwahaha! Even loose brass bows to my roar!