Oh joy, my carefully planted ranunculas corms, and my sweet peas are sprouting through the soggy cold ground! Soon a riot of color will adorn the side of my house.
And then, when I come outside in the morning to gleefully examine the newest baby shoots..





















CATS!.

You know, those cute little creatures of whimsical playfulness, which are so adorable...

.

... They play and pounce, and keep you company as you putz around in the garden, pulling little weeds and tenderly grooming the tiny new flowers..

Then, as you come upon the patch of newest green sprouts, you see...

..crushed, bruised, battered and severed baby leaves... the victims of those very same creatures described above. It is almost an impossible feat not to fly into a rage as I observe the massacre. I personally own no cats... zero, zip, nada, none. But, my two daughters own three, which all seem to still reside at my home. There are also the neighborhood gang of cats, which, encouraged by said daughters, come to loll, dine, dig in their very spacious outdoor bathroom and chill at my estate, where they also stalk and prey on my garden birds & squirrels..

The merit of garden cats is debatable.