Of stray cats and steaming engines
Apr. 3rd, 2008 05:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avanta7Sunday afternoon, while on the way home from shopping, my car nearly overheated in downtown Marysville. I pulled over to the curb, turned the engine off, and sat for about 15 minutes; then drove to the service station a couple blocks away. "I'll just get a gallon of antifreeze," I thought.
Famous last words.
The coolant poured out of the bottom of the engine as fast as I poured it in. There was no way I could drive the car home. I called spouse to come fetch me and we left the car for the mechanic to look at first thing Monday morning. When the mechanic called the next day, he told us he thought the water pump had gone bad, but he wouldn't know for certain until he could pull the engine* and look at it. Yes. In Chrysler's infinite wisdom, the water pump is installed at the bottom of the engine block.
Two days and $800 later, I got my car back. With a new water pump, fresh coolant, and a recharged air conditioner.
I told spouse that was the most expensive gallon of antifreeze I ever bought in my life.
(*Okay, he didn't literally pull the engine, but he had to remove a multitude of surrounding doodads and whatsits to reach the water pump in its supremely stupid position at the bottom of the engine. The majority of that $800 was for labor. The parts cost was minimal.)
Spouse took me to work Monday, Tuesday, and yesterday. Yesterday morning, I went outside to start the truck while spouse finished getting his paperwork together. A loud yet pitiful "mrowr" stopped me in my tracks. I looked around and finally spotted a gray tabby hiding behind the old broken gas grill we have yet to deposit in a dumpster somewhere. She was nearly invisible against the gray stucco wall.
I sat down near the grill. A few "kitty kitty kitty" calls later, she crawled out and came to me.
She was about six months old, half-starved, and had a hurt front leg. Even so, she was a beautiful baby, and had obviously been someone's pet. I picked her up, carried her into the house and announced to spouse we just acquired a new cat. Then the argument ensued. I fed the poor thing while having a heated discussion over taking her in. When we left the house a few minutes later, I reluctantly deposited my new little friend outside in the courtyard where I found her and hoped she'd still be here when I got home from work.
Unfortunately, she wasn't.
During the day, spouse and I had come to a compromise: I'd take care of the baby until next Monday, when I had the day off and could take her to the feline rescue association. But I couldn't find her. I wandered the neighborhood, calling out "Kitty kitty kitty" and looking in various and sundry hidey-holes. No sign. I looked again a short time later, and again shortly after that. As it started to get dark, I set out food and water in the courtyard in case she came back in the night. Sleep was elusive. I kept getting up in the middle of the night to look for her. No luck. No luck at all. And she wasn't here this morning either.
I keep telling myself that someone else found her and took her in.
And I still haven't quite forgiven spouse for being a dick.
Famous last words.
The coolant poured out of the bottom of the engine as fast as I poured it in. There was no way I could drive the car home. I called spouse to come fetch me and we left the car for the mechanic to look at first thing Monday morning. When the mechanic called the next day, he told us he thought the water pump had gone bad, but he wouldn't know for certain until he could pull the engine* and look at it. Yes. In Chrysler's infinite wisdom, the water pump is installed at the bottom of the engine block.
Two days and $800 later, I got my car back. With a new water pump, fresh coolant, and a recharged air conditioner.
I told spouse that was the most expensive gallon of antifreeze I ever bought in my life.
(*Okay, he didn't literally pull the engine, but he had to remove a multitude of surrounding doodads and whatsits to reach the water pump in its supremely stupid position at the bottom of the engine. The majority of that $800 was for labor. The parts cost was minimal.)
Spouse took me to work Monday, Tuesday, and yesterday. Yesterday morning, I went outside to start the truck while spouse finished getting his paperwork together. A loud yet pitiful "mrowr" stopped me in my tracks. I looked around and finally spotted a gray tabby hiding behind the old broken gas grill we have yet to deposit in a dumpster somewhere. She was nearly invisible against the gray stucco wall.
I sat down near the grill. A few "kitty kitty kitty" calls later, she crawled out and came to me.
She was about six months old, half-starved, and had a hurt front leg. Even so, she was a beautiful baby, and had obviously been someone's pet. I picked her up, carried her into the house and announced to spouse we just acquired a new cat. Then the argument ensued. I fed the poor thing while having a heated discussion over taking her in. When we left the house a few minutes later, I reluctantly deposited my new little friend outside in the courtyard where I found her and hoped she'd still be here when I got home from work.
Unfortunately, she wasn't.
During the day, spouse and I had come to a compromise: I'd take care of the baby until next Monday, when I had the day off and could take her to the feline rescue association. But I couldn't find her. I wandered the neighborhood, calling out "Kitty kitty kitty" and looking in various and sundry hidey-holes. No sign. I looked again a short time later, and again shortly after that. As it started to get dark, I set out food and water in the courtyard in case she came back in the night. Sleep was elusive. I kept getting up in the middle of the night to look for her. No luck. No luck at all. And she wasn't here this morning either.
I keep telling myself that someone else found her and took her in.
And I still haven't quite forgiven spouse for being a dick.
