The Gardener. A Cat's story

Willy Wagtail on lawn

Cat viewed the garden below. She sat on the edge of the decking that overlooked the small backyard. Her tail swished lazily,  to and fro.

Her ears lay flat against her head, she looked poised to pounce on the black and white creature dancing on the lawn.

The Willy Wagtail  flirted and teased, daring Cat to attack. Cat wheezed, sat up and began to groom both whiskers and paws. The effort did not match the reward. The plan of attack itself had worn Cat out. The sun warmed her back and a lazy breeze gently caressed her fur, causing it to ruffle and puff back and forward. A loud wide yawn from Cat and the Wagtail skittered off.

Cat looked down onto the raised garden beds. "She who feeds"  was muttering to herself and referring to a newspaper article written by Alan Marshall the Gardener's Friend. It seems the answer to the loss of the crops was in the soil. Lack of nutrition, something Cat did not suffer from in the least. She rolled over to catch the sun's warmth on her tummy. Laying still, feeling the slow burn of the sun and the light breeze, her paws relaxed, Cat realised she was going to have a great deal of difficulty rolling back onto her stomach. She mewed and "She who feeds", raced up and rescued Cat with a sweep and a cuddle.

"My you are a fatty boomba", grunted She as she lifted and returned Cat  right side up,  giving Cat's head a smooth rub and a tickle under the chin.

Cat glowered and despised her, as the weight gain was not the fault of the eater, fumed Cat. It was definitely the fault of the feeder. "She" was a feeder. Case rests m'lud.

The garden below looked sad and neglected, the corn sagged and the tomatoes looked as if death was imminent. Tragic thought Cat, the garden did not look like it was fit even as a sandbox. Not that Cat would have used it as such, the effort of jumping up onto the raised garden making it safe.

Sadly, this tomato died.

The inspired gardener returned and began pouring seaweed emulsion onto the remaining tired tomato. Hope springs eternal observed Cat from her vantage point. Looking down onto the world below, taking in the garden, the strain and the effort that had gone into the building of the vegie patch. The small island of hope and the promise.

Cat flexed  her claws one more time, and waited for the Wagtail to return.