Of Cats and Gardens
My garden has now grown from three lonely mint plants to eleven different herbs and spices thanks to the generosity of my Mother and my workmates. Unfortunately, a stray cat has been teaching her kitten how to potty train and his target is my pant pots.
This has lead to overturned pots, young plants skinned out of their homes and piles of potting mix on the ground. I have grown tired of scooping poop, refilling pots and in general squawking in frustration that my plants are not being allowed to grow in peace.
My medium term plan was to buy some buckets, procure several bags of top soil and transfer the plants into buckets that he would be unable to unseat.
This came to me after resisting the slightly violent urges towards the young kitten. I suppose if she was more agreeable and cuddly, I would feel more tolerant. She herself is not at all personable; she seems to have been birthed into the world with a very fiery and tempestuous deposition. She greets me with a round of vitriolic hisses, all delivered from a safe distance of course, and peers at my efforts to set my garden to rights with disdain.
With visions of even more kittens going potty in my potting mix I had made a grand plan to have her mother spayed so as to avoid any-more tiny tots for whom my plant pots would become a loo, but I noticed today that the mother, dubbed Reese for no good reason, is looking rather round...
Knowing that I am her sole provider rules out her suddenly being the benefactor of an excess of food, her weight gain could only be down to natural way of the womb. I had to simply swallow the bitter pill that the neighbourhood tom cats have once again beaten me to the punch line, though I can't say that I am laughing over much about it.
In the spirit of being flexible, I have reassigned the money I was going to use for spaying Reese, to getting my plants transferred to safe havens as soon as I can arrange it.
If I can't win one way, I will do the best I can to ensure the continued health of my plants from a different angle.
Wish me luck!
This has lead to overturned pots, young plants skinned out of their homes and piles of potting mix on the ground. I have grown tired of scooping poop, refilling pots and in general squawking in frustration that my plants are not being allowed to grow in peace.
My medium term plan was to buy some buckets, procure several bags of top soil and transfer the plants into buckets that he would be unable to unseat.
This came to me after resisting the slightly violent urges towards the young kitten. I suppose if she was more agreeable and cuddly, I would feel more tolerant. She herself is not at all personable; she seems to have been birthed into the world with a very fiery and tempestuous deposition. She greets me with a round of vitriolic hisses, all delivered from a safe distance of course, and peers at my efforts to set my garden to rights with disdain.
With visions of even more kittens going potty in my potting mix I had made a grand plan to have her mother spayed so as to avoid any-more tiny tots for whom my plant pots would become a loo, but I noticed today that the mother, dubbed Reese for no good reason, is looking rather round...
Knowing that I am her sole provider rules out her suddenly being the benefactor of an excess of food, her weight gain could only be down to natural way of the womb. I had to simply swallow the bitter pill that the neighbourhood tom cats have once again beaten me to the punch line, though I can't say that I am laughing over much about it.
In the spirit of being flexible, I have reassigned the money I was going to use for spaying Reese, to getting my plants transferred to safe havens as soon as I can arrange it.
If I can't win one way, I will do the best I can to ensure the continued health of my plants from a different angle.
Wish me luck!
I feel your pain but I love your flexibility and the fact that your funds are going towards keeping your plants safe.
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