Bob is down!

If you know me at all you know that my truck is like a beloved pet to me. Like a big ol' pack dog really. I feed it and pet it and make a place for it to sleep. I literally scratch him up under the dash and say "Who's a good boy?" after a particularly hairy incident, of which there have been many. His name is Bob. He's a huge 4x4 Chevy Silverado with a 4" lift and bigass tires that'll tear up your yard. He's a good boy. Bob is at the vet and needs major surgery and I'm on pins and needles while we wait for a good word.

If the fuel system is his heart and veins he needs a heart transplant. The pump. His heart is located above the fuel tank and therefore it needs to come out so the work can be done. Because we live in California he needs help to breathe the air here. He has already had a lung transplant, but he wears a prosthesis called a catalytic converter. It converts catalytics. This is not covered under our HMO. Due to the high trafficking of illegal body parts which are so easily stolen, the appliance alone is four thousand dollars. Not to mention surgery, anesthesia, gift shop teddy bears and a recovery trip to the mountains to play in the snow. I mean a short period of time to recover in the quiet of a snow-covered curvy road to nowhere, but I digress...

My big boy is out of commission for a bit and I am once again reminded that I just don't understand how people live without a bigass truck. How do you haul stuff and pull stuff and run over stuff? Where do you nap at lunchtime? What is your winch attached to? How do you fit a full set of drums in that little thing? You can't back that thing into the lake. You'll drown it! If you have a regular truck why on earth did you not get a 4x4? How can you drive in the mud with only two tires turning. What are you, nuts? Did you even lift?

Ok, maybe I'm mixing metaphors but my baby is in the hospital and I have no control over my thoughts at this point. I just miss him so much and want to take him out to his favorite dirt field and let him run around, wagging his tail like crazy, jumping in puddles and getting all muddy. I'm angry and sad and hopeful that we will hear good news soon. We have a great vet and he and Bob are in God's hands now.

Let us pray.

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