Pathetic. Half a month since my last post. I really have to get in more.
My leg quit hurting three or four days ago. The doc said to stay active, and I have – scouting trail for an upcoming run, taking long bike rides, walking the dog. Later today we’ll go on a three- to four-mile trek. So far, so good. I’m still looking into the possibility of a connection between pulling Gs and vascular degeneration. Nothing to report yet.
When I went out to walk the dog this morning I saw several large rocks in the street, all piled together. It took me a minute to figure out they came from our own yard and that someone must have picked them up and moved them into the street. I couldn’t imagine why, so I abandoned that line of thought and moved the rocks back to our yard. When I told Donna about it, half an hour later, she immediately realized someone had stolen our rabbit.
Our son Gregory gave us a piece of yard art when we moved into this house, a metal rabbit in silhouette, about two feet tall. We put it by our mailbox at the end of the driveway, weighing down its base with rocks. Over the years it’s picked up a nice patina. Now it’s picked up a new owner.
This isn’t the first thing that’s been stolen from us, but it’s the first since we’ve moved into this neighborhood. I hope this isn’t the start of a trend. Later this morning we noticed that some political signs and posters neighbors had placed on their lots were missing too. Hmm . . . I just installed a bicycle mounting bar in the bed of our pickup truck. The truck doesn’t fit in the garage, so we leave it in the driveway overnight. Maybe we’d better keep the mounting bar inside and only put it in the truck when we want to move the bikes.
Speaking of vehicles in driveways, vermin have been hard at work on Polly’s old Thunderbird. When I last wrote about our pack rat, it had made a mess of Polly’s engine but hadn’t done permanent damage. Since then it’s gnawed through several wires – at least two cylinders no longer fire, and the air conditioner doesn’t work. We finally sucked it up and took the T-bird to a local auto electrical mechanic, a fellow who more or less specializes in pack rat damage. He says ours is “about a six” on his one-to-ten scale of gnawed wiring. When we get the car back we’ll have to drive it at least every other day lest the pack rat move back in.
Arizonans trade pack rat remedies as if they were secret family recipes. Take it from me, they’re all useless. Pack rats aren’t the least discouraged by moth balls or sheets of fabric softener placed under the hood. Rat poison? They grow fat and glossy on the stuff. Forget those heavy duty mouse traps (the kind that scare the hell out of you because you know they’ll take your fingers off if you’re careless). Pack rats scoff at traps. The Beast of Revelations got nothin’ on pack rats.
You know how we finally discouraged it? We started leaving the hood up, day and night. The reason they move into engine compartments in the first place is they’re looking for a dark, safe place. Of course, we’re not so naive we think the pack rat’s gone for good. That’s why we’ll have to drive the T-bird every other day until Polly comes to take it back to Phoenix.
Bad veins, thieves in the night, plagues of vermin. Truly the end times are upon us.