Your Plants Say
“Dude, I love your dog, but no offense, he is filthy! He carries spores and insect eggs from outdoors, and he has a habit of brushing up alongside me every time he walks in. I’ve gotten tired of fighting off the infectious spores, and some are starting to take hold. Do you mind checking the undersides of my leaves? It feels like there is stuff crawling around down there. Ouch! Something just bit me.”
“And there was that time your pooch murdered one of us. He only did it once, but why? Yanked right out of her pot and shredded in front of us all. Oh, the horror!”
“Don’t forget the time he ran through the room and unplugged the vent fan just as you went away for the weekend. It turned into an atomic oven in here. Some of us never survived, while those that did are shadows of our former selves.”
Your Dog Says
“Oh boy, oh boy, he’s letting me into the place he always disappears to for hours on end. I’d better start helping out and mark this as part of my territory. Those humming boxes plugged into the wall look like a great place to start.”
“Look, he’s hard at work, crouched over those gardening beds. Won’t he be so excited when I spring up into the dense bed so he can see how great I am and pet me?”
“Wow, look at the size of this water bowl! I’ll be sure to drink lots of it. Heck, it might even be big enough to take a bath in.”
“Joy! All those fetch sticks. And to think they are going to waste holding up those plants. Best to collect all of those right now.”
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Monday, 28 January 2013
