Furry persons and gardens
When gardening strikes the furry home
If you happen to be furry, a garden can be a lesson in quite inexplicable human behavior. Not that you expect much from human behavior, but even by their standards the garden seems a bit over the top.
All of a sudden, the two legged part of the equation seems to go gaga, and tons of soil, plants, and a lot of strange comments are flying around. It’s as though your pet human has suddenly developed a purpose in life. Intrigued, you watch cautiously from the sidelines.
The first thing you notice is that Nature’s answer to standup comedy apparently can’t be bothered to wait for trees to grow. Or anything else. What seems to be a forest is being installed in your territory. Much grunting, digging of holes, and placement of plants and other oddities seems to be the objective.
The hose, that untrustworthy member of the household, is being brought into play, and everything is being saturated. Well, nobody ever accused humanity of good etiquette. Your ball, innocently minding its own business, is sitting there defenceless, so you go and retrieve it. The human tells you he doesn’t want a game, which is rather a pity, because it’d probably be safer than what he’s doing. Humans are quite difficult to train, so you’ll keep the ball handy for when whatever this is wears off.
Sighing, you retreat to a hose-free zone, and watch with interest as the other furry inhabitant comes out to take a look. She scuttles over to the human, and investigates the bomb site. The human takes an interest when she wanders onto the wasteland. She’s informed that this isn’t for her, and is reluctantly persuaded to be elsewhere.
She wanders over and sits next to you.
“What’s this all about?” she inquires.
“Don’t know, he was normal enough this morning,” you reply. “Had to save our ball from it, too. Perhaps he’s trying to return to the wild?”
The young human emerges, and totters over, to be saved from all the mysterious things lying about. The kid is formally introduced to the strange place and then carried over to where you’re sitting. The kid seems as baffled as you are, but has that interesting unshakeable faith in adult behavior, so is less worried about the effect of this work on the human’s mind.
Well, at least the kid wants to play with the ball, so some fun is to be had out of this strange experience. During the game, the female human comes out and forces the male to drink one of those hot drinks. You’re surprised she’s not only not trying to stop this madness, but is actually helping. They chatter and bustle about like busy ants.
After about an hour of this, the kid, now wearing much of the lawn, and apparently able to attract dirt from outer space, is collected, presumably for recycling, and both humans go in to eat.
You and the other furry person now investigate the weirdness. Plants, more plants, lots of soil, packets of odd smelling things that mercifully don’t come from the kitchen…
The male human scurries out.
“No!” he explains.
No, what? Did he think you were going to steal all that stuff and eat it?
Eventually, thanks to a lengthy display of performance art by the human, you discover that it means he doesn’t want you digging in it. If humans ever bothered to include the word “dig” in their vocabulary for furry people, it’d save a lot of time, but the opportunity to allow them to make fools of themselves isn’t to be missed, either.
Both furry persons now sit like prize winners and look intelligent. The grins on your faces are quite lost on the human, who gives you one dubious look and returns to eating.
“Ah… place to bury bones?” asks the other furry.
“Yep,” you reply. “Shame to let all this go to waste, and we’ll…”
The furry person from next door wanders past.
“Oh, your people, too?” she asks sympathetically. “Wait until they start growing roses and installing garden arches. It’s terrifying.”
“Garden? That’s what this is?” you ask, horrified.
“Can’t anything be done to stop it?” asks the other furry.
“Apparently the only control is giving the kid somewhere to play,” explains the other furry, scratching thoughtfully. “Otherwise the whole place is covered in strange things.”
“What do we do?” asks the other furry, quite concerned.
“We teach the kid football, starting today,” you reply.
Your attitude to the gardens softens after a while, when you discover that it’s causing the humans to come outside more, which could only help, and that they seem more relaxed and happier pottering about.
You teach the kid football anyway, just to be on the safe side.