#NameYourCarDay

PETUNIA

Today, I celebrate another “pet.” My Petunia. She is a 1991 Volvo 240DL - and presently ailing. Nothing gets me more frazzled than when this darling has a seizure. I love her; built like a tank. (What do they say about owners resembling their pets—it better not be true about cars). It is also a good thing I am no longer young and foolish. She is the only fire-engine red Volvo in town. Everyone knows her; hence they always know where I am (no dilly-dallying for me).

Monday night, I parked in my garage as usual, then got up bright and early Tuesday morning, ready to drive to the gym—to walk. Couldn’t shift out of “park.” None of the “Googled” solutions worked. Good thing my mechanic makes house calls—even though, in Arkansas, “right away” means “not quite right away - but soon.” (If you are lucky.) He finally got it so that I could drive it to his shop, parking it in “neutral.” (Yes, guys, I did set the handbrake.) I am now marooned for a few days awaiting a new shift lever.

Of course, I could always WALK the two miles to the gym to go and walk my usual two miles there...

Never EVER Say “Never”

     Why? Because you’ll be eating crow; or, in my case, fur.

     A while back, I posted just such an article (slightly snooty about my friends caving in by adopting another Corgy after they had said “enough, no more”).   Well, this time, the joke’s on me – but what a lovely thing having to admit.

     After Pasha passed so suddenly Over The Rainbow Bridge, I did indeed say “After Lilliput goes, that’s it. No more cats.”
      But former neighbors of mine didn't put too much creed into my protestations. And so, one day when I invited them for a glass of wine, they brought - and left - their 8-year old cat with me. They knew he would be loved - and free to roam the house (once Lilliput allowed him to), without having to contend with a gaggle of dogs.
      So, there he was: TINKER. What a Face! They had rescued the kitten back in Texas as a stray and, of course, took it to the vet, having named it "Tinkerbell."
     When they requested the vet to spay her, he shook his head. "Can't do. However, I can neuter him." Hence, not only was this cuddly kitten ignobly snipped where prescribed, but so was its name.

INTRODUCING TINKER

    I think he might have a little Maine Coon in his checkered DNA; perhaps also Ragdoll. (The Coon-part is my opinion and I am sticking to it). Another mysterious part may just be "Howler-Monkey." 
    On the dot, every night at 3:00 AM, he emits very loud and demanding yowls. Some nights, I resists - for an hour. But it's no use. I have to get up and give him a scoop of "crunchies." 

     The side-effect for Lilliput is not good. She has already gained at least two pounds through these additional feedings. 

 Snoozing all day without much exercise also keeps the pounds on

While they are not bosom-buddies yet, 

at least they are comfortable with synchronized sleeping.

 And there you have it: "Never say Never." 

I did, failed miserably - and am glad of it.