Homebound -- truck at the truck hospital

Well, it's been one of those mornings.

First, Mark discovered that the raccoons that someone dumped here (that have been desperate for food and have been finding at least one new thing to destroy nightly, even though our property is fairly raccoon-proof) broke into the chicken pen last night and killed Hillary and Cornelia, our pet hens that we have had for six years.

Then the brake line on my truck burst...AFTER the back was filled with trash for the landfill.

Mark put a tarp down in the back of his spiffy little Matrix and we transferred the trash to his vehicle. It was a bit of a haul with 300 plus pound of trash plus two adults, but she made it OK. Although now she reeks like cat litter and Odor-Fresh garbage bags. I took down the cat poster at the waste transfer station, as all the cats and kittens caught there have been placed or spoken for.

Craig came and fetched my truck while we were gone, then gave me a call. The ball joints are shot as well, and I had already scheduled the catalytic converter to be replaced, so I told him to just keep my truck as long as he needs to, go over her nose to tail, and we'll just have to put it on a credit card. For those of you who don't know me, I "don't do" credit cards, because access to credit means I just spend more on cats. "Cash only" means I operate within my means. But Mark has a zero balance credit card just to bail out his wife in situations like these.

So I am homebound, other than when I can borrow Mark's car. For those of you to whom I promised anything requiring my truck...whether it was cat shelters, or merely my presence, I will not be able to follow through until my truck emerges from triage, and I told Craig to take his time since I do not need the truck to commute.

Poor Cornelia and Hillary. They were such great birds.