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Cat in my garden


Yesterday afternoon, after we arrived home from practice, I noticed Annie had eaten a quarter of the pie that Steffi had made for us. I had left the pie on top of the toaster oven, on the counter. In a fit of anger, I followed Annie around the house yelling at her, kicking her crate in frustration that she ate the food I wanted. Again. That dog has eaten more of my food, and more of my expensive, tasty food than we've spent on Bella in vet bills (and she's had two surgeries). I put her in her crate, and insisted she stay there, while I went to sleep to dissipate.

This morning, I was still angry at Annie. I pretty much ignored her before I left for work, then ignored her when I arrived after work. I fed them, then went outside to garden. I had watered the tomatoes and pumpkins, and was surprised the cucumbers were actually growing. I had covered the ground around them with mulch, and I think it helped keep the ground moist so that they could grow well.

I gave Bella some tomatoes and snap peas while I was gardening after she came out to watch me through the fence, but continued to ignore Annie when she sat next to Bella.

I've been trying to bring in a bucket of mulch and take out a bucket of weeds when I head into the garden. As I was picking weeds, I heard a cat purring nearby. I looked around, puzzled that a cat would be in my garden, and so close to me. Not seeing any cat, I looked around for Bella, thinking that she might be snuffling around outside the garden. She wasn't there, so I looked around. Where is that darn cat?

I looked up to see a humming bird dancing a little over a yard from me. It hummed along, sounding just like a purring cat as is flitted around. Amazed, I watched it as it landed on one of my tomato plants. I raised my hand, and reached out to it. It flew over to my hand, and buzzed around it, purring as it did, never quite landing on it, but close, about a hand width away.

It was amazing. The little bird flew around my hand, then circled my head, before flying up to the dead apricot tree to sit. It waited for a while, then flew around my upheld hand before buzzing away.

The moment was incredible, a small gift from nature.

Afterward, I felt my anger at Annie, which I had nurtured all day, just disappear. I gave her some snap peas, then her after-dinner treat. She seemed to understand I wan no longer angry at her, as she followed me around during my field run at Cherry Chase, seemingly happy that I wasn't ignoring her any longer.

The other garden surprise was the discovery the plant I thought was a unproducing acorn squash was actually a well producing zucchini plant.

Not that I have good luck with zucchini or anything. This plant has silver veins in its leaves. Will it, too, be bitter?