This is Wilma’s plant. It’s an asparagus fern though it’s kind of hard to tell that now.
This is Wilma. Wilma is bored.
This is my shelf. I’m busy digging through Christmas containers for items to display.
Wilma is an only cat. I am her mother and sister and playmate. She wants my attention so she goes for the one thing that has always worked.
My husband likes to be helpful. From his perch on the couch he warns, “Wilma, stop abusing that plant!” But Wilma ignores him and continues her assault.
I stop to take a break. I sit down on the loveseat and have a talk with Wilma.
“I can’t let you go outside. It isn’t safe. That plant is the only real greenery you have except for the rosemary. If you keep messing with it I’ll have to put it in the garage to die off slowly all alone. You’re very close to losing it completely.” I throw some garland on the rug and Wilma plays “Chase the String” with my husband for a while.
I find a piece of fake greenery that I think might disguise Wilma’s plant and give it one last chance to renew itself. I push it into the soil in front of the asparagus fern.
Wilma looks it over.
What is she thinking, I wonder. Is she willing now to accept this fake fern and leave the real one behind it alone?
She bites off a piece and finds its hard to chew. Then she decides to go back to the original.
She digs around and finds that the dirt is still down there. “Wilma, you’re getting dirt everywhere!”
I stop what I’m doing and clean things up. Then I check my email while Wilma lies down to rest. She slowly doses off in the warmth of the desk lamp.
When Wilma wakes up she finds that things in the living room have changed.
She discovers by the fireplace that her plant is no longer there. It has been replaced.
Wilma doesn’t seem to bother the rosemary that I brought in from the cold. It’s been in the kitchen for a couple of weeks and she hasn’t messed with it though it is quite accessible. She doesn’t appear to like the smell. I placed pine cones around the soil so she wouldn’t be tempted to dig. Except for a couple of swipes at the fake berries I inserted in the pot, Wilma has left it alone so far.
If she decides to have a go at the rosemary, I’ll have double the trouble this time.
I’m really hoping these work out. I love to cook with fresh rosemary and the garage is already too full of dead or dying plants.