grinchy

With only a week to go before my due date, I'm ready to meet Baby Fig. People keep asking Mr. Kenobi if I'm "nesting." While the inner pits (a.k.a. inside our house) could definitely use some cleaning, I have been ferociously working (and delegating) outside work. This has led to some crazy moments that should be chalked up to "nesting" - or something other than sanity.

Take, for example, my beautiful gardens. The newly planted flowers and greenery are actually surviving. This is a miracle unto itself, but the fact remains that I may actually get some blooms and vegetables on this shady property. Of course, much could still go wrong on this plan, but at least we've made it home with plants, put them into the freshly amended soil, and covered with what seemed like acres worth of bark dust. It looks nice, and things are growing.

The problem lies with neighborhood animals. Or perhaps, just perhaps, the problem lies with my present condition. I'm not admitting any intolerance, but have to confess to insisting that Mr. Kenobi string up makeshift fencing with stakes and bright pink twine to keep passing doggies from tromping through the itty-bitty plantings. My hope was, of course, that these fences would also restrain the mysterious kitties who frequent my yard as a litter box.

The fence has kept dogs off the gardens. That, and perhaps I'm biased, but it seems that most dog owners are more aware of their pets' activities, since dogs are usually on a leash while moseying about the neighborhood. Cats, meanwhile, seem to roam unsupervised, especially at night.

I have a problem with this. First, if you're a cat owner, please know that I love you (if I know you) and even like your animal. I'm allergic to him or her, so I probably won't ever be a "cat person," but I am an animal lover in general. However, I also recognize that your beloved animal is put at risk when you open the door, shoo him outside, and wait until morning to welcome him back for a can of tuna. There are predators, cars, and other dangers that, in my opinion, are reasons enough to keep a litter box & pet indoors or supervised on leash. That, of course, and municipal codes requiring your responsibility.

Ah, but yes. Cats like to roam, don't they? Well, then somebody is going to be unhappy: you, me, or your kitty. See, maybe it's pregnancy brain, but I have come to the conclusion that your cat's right to roam ends where my mulch begins. Especially when cat poo is a known risk for health. In particular, my health and little Baby Fig. Herein lies where I'm toeing the line of becoming the neighborhood crazy lady.

Let me be clear: I like animals, and don't want to harm anyone or their pets. So, I've looked at humane, kind, even loving ways to keep the kitty poop out of my gardens. I've used spray bottles and shower settings from the water hose. I've tried cayenne pepper. (Incidentally, this does work, but cayenne must be purchased in bulk if you ever water things and/or have more than a few square feet of garden space.) I've had Mr. Kenobi put up fences, both with string and stakes, as well as fully fencing the back yard. I've even tried - gasp! - directly telling neighbors that I don't like the cats roaming about.

Still, kitties and their souvenirs pepper my flower gardens, scratch up baby blooms, and generally annoy me. I used to have some measure of perspective, but the recent season of allergies (intolerable, especially since I can't take any real medications right now!) and daily growth of my tummy have somehow diminished my sense of humor. Recently, a friend recommended an eco-friendly, creative solution: plant plastic forks, handle down, in the soil. Evidently, the forks won't hurt the cats, but discourage them from littering about in the gardens. I'm game to try anything.

So, (and yes, this is where "crazy" and "nesting" start to flow into the same sentence), I have planted dozens of forks around hostas, impatients, roses, and petunias. What once looked like a nicely manicured garden now looks like a curiously planted picnic remnant. And I, the once patient and well-humored lady next door, have plastic forks planted amid flowers, in hopes that I can deter my neighbors' cats from doing business in my gardens.

Lovely. When Baby Fig arrives, perhaps my patience and perspective will return. In the meantime, I'm hoping the kitties will make some new habits or at least we can all laugh a bit at my version of "nesting."