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Thursday June 27th 2019Tim Candler9

 

    There was a time when the Kitten was a joy to be around in the vegetable garden. She'd pad bravely about, sniff this and that, do a little galloping, Grasshopper gave her something to think about, she'd do a little experimental weeding I foolishly thought, she'd express interest in the comings and goings of two legged kind, it must have been magical for her, then she'd get hot, start panting and a doting gardener would put her in a basket and carefully carry her to the cool of the domicile. A time came when she'd find her own way over the garden fence, it was a convenient spot to perform a bodily function of one kind or another, which as any gardener will tell you is an absolute No-No behavior from a carnivorous mammal. With what they call "proper fecal sludge management" its OK, but just digging a little hole near the Beetroots and making a huge effort pretending to bury it is a recipe for a public relations nightmare. Nor do you really want a herbivorous mammal anywhere near a vegetable garden, so things like pet Guinea Pigs in a garden are completely out. 

 

Past

    Fortunately there's a go to cat wrangler here where I live who, Spock like, can pretty much meld with the minds of domestic felines. Like Wellington with his advice on the Sparrows that had taken up residence inside Queen Victoria's Crystal Palace with his "Sparrow Hawks, Ma'am!" The solution to cat performing abolitions in vegetable garden was "Pie plates on top of the fence posts, obviously." Not for me to reason why, and it worked. These days an already stressed out gardener will hear a pathetic little wail that has a quality a person normally associates with an out of sorts two year old, the kind that hasn't yet been alive for seventy years and it's the Kitten wanting to have a garden gate opened for her. We had quite a good day together Bean Picking. I had to slightly thin a couple of rows. It was rain rot and the yellow spawn of Bean Beetle, the rows weren't getting enough breeze and it's peak growing time. The Kittens role was more that of glamorous supervisor, she completely ignored both omnivorous Chipmunks, wisely took no notice of the Toad, and when time came she was pretending to be fast asleep in the Asparagus and had to be carried back to the cool of the domicile. 

  

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