All summer I watched two litters of wild barn kittens get bigger and bigger. There were two black-and-white kittens and three coal-black ones with white feet. Finally, on Sept. 12, we rounded up those we could catch and took them to get “fixed” — the two black-and-white kittens and one black one with white feet.

Right before we left to go pick them up after surgery, I fed the remaining crew. Several adult cats showed up, plus three coal-black kittens with white feet.

Wait a minute! We took one with black-and-white feet to the vet. Three minus one equals two. I looked again — one, two, three. Either the black-and-white kitten mysteriously transported itself home, or they had played hide-and-seek all summer, and there were really four! You know how that turned out.

That was Thursday, the 12th. Friday the 13th began with the vet showing up to check our two rams. Between the two of them, all but one ewe had come in heat twice. We played the May lamb game this year — not fun.

The vet soon confirmed what I suspected. The ram we bought about this time last year when our older ram wasn’t getting the job done has very poor semen. No wonder all his ewes kept cycling. The other ram, which sired exactly zero lambs last year, has good sperm, but the vet couldn’t confirm he was 100% sound.

What to do? As luck would have it, my brother had an older ram for sale.

“We will be up to get him this evening,” I said.

“Good,” Dave replied. Deal done.

More fun

There was just one problem. On our last trip home from the state fair, I was pretty sure a trailer tire had a roofing nail in it. Yep, it was still there. The tire wasn’t flat, but a four-hour round trip is a risky venture with a tire that has a nail in it.

So, I grabbed my tools to take off the tire. The lug nuts wouldn’t budge. I sprayed WD-40 and went for the breaker bar, stored in a narrow, green, metal case from Dad’s days on the farm. Naturally, I couldn’t find it.

“Did you look in the truck?” Carla asked.

“Yes, I looked in the truck,” I replied, ever so kindly.

“Look again,” she answered, ever so sweetly.

Hmm, I didn’t think to look in the bottom of the toolbox wedged between the seats. There it was.

“Probably where you put it in case you had a flat on the road,” Carla said softly.

Probably so, I muttered to myself.

Naturally, the last nut still wouldn’t budge, so I got out the cheater bar and finally snapped it loose. Off to the tire repair store.

“We can’t fix that tire, sir,” the lady said.

“Why not? You told my wife on the phone you could,” I replied.

“It’s 10 years old and there’s dry rot. Company policy won’t let us remove a tire over 5 years old,” she answered.

That was a new one on me, but I had no choice. So, three hours and $130 later, we had a new trailer tire.

Did I mention it was Friday the 13th? Or that we had an extra black cat? And that was only up to 3 p.m. If the rest of the day continued like Friday the 13th, there will be a sequel!