I have three perfectly potted plants that sit on my desk. Actually that’s a lie, but I’ll get to that. I had three perfectly potted plants that graced my desk. Jack, Tessa and Chloe. Yes I named them. I didn’t even pause to think about it.
There they sit in their cheery, sherbet glory. They sit with perfect, perked up, poise. They sit in amiable silence.
These darling succulents would not last ten minutes in my home. I have feline furballs that wait for the days I bring the outdoors inside. It’s like bringing home Pad Thai to my husband. It’s waited for in anticipation, and consumed before it hits the table. They may look innocent, so sweetly snuggling. But to a helpless plant, they are terror.
I dream of having a living room where sleepy plants grace bookshelves and table tops. Plants that stretch with the slanted sun. But you will not find them in my home. They quickly become meals to my kittens. Leaves and stems are plucked and chewed with ruthless gore. Pieces of plant carnage lay strewn about the floor and counter tops.
As soon as I started to settle into my new desk job, my first thought was PLANTS! I could have plants that were far from the clutches of kitties! It’s a small and simple thing, but every time I glance up and see the “gang”, it puts a smile on my face. They look a little different from the photos now. My friend took these photos at the grand opening, and since then, the tall one has had a few bumps and bruises. I take my plants outside to water them on the rare days it rains in Texas, and during one morning downpour I tipped the pot and out came Tessa. She is barely clinging to life as she is repeatedly knocked from her pot by wandering elbows. She is losing dirt and leaves, and I am a bad plant mommy because I keep forgetting the soil at home. Maybe it’s not the cats that are thoughtless plant killers, maybe it’s me.