Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Oh, Stuart

Yesterday I looked out the kitchen window to see a familiar black shape standing up on her hind legs and yanking at my last surviving broccoli plant.


I ran out with clappy hands and stompy ugg-boots and gruffness aplenty.  Ellen ignored me, but I managed to push her away before she had completely destroyed the plant.

There were two florets left.  Very small florets.  Really small.  The size of large grapes.  Or very tiny watermelons.  Or, like, if you had the skull of a monkey, but it was solid, and then you chiselled away most of it.  They were that size.

So I decided I would eat my two florets in a stir-fry.  I chopped up a selection of other vegetables, and then realised it was news time, so I put down my knife and went into the lounge to watch the headlines.



I went back into the kitchen and there was a half-chewed broccoli floret on the floor, and cat hair on my chopping board.  I picked up the last broccolus.  One pathetic broccolus.  I started to laugh hysterically, and then I was crying, and then I felt a little pop in my brain and I couldn't feel my left arm for a bit but I was strangely soothed.

$500 building a "dog-proof" garden.  Three megalitres of water to sustain it.  Nine hours lovingly picking grubs off the underside of leaves.  One happy dog.  One happy cat.  One floret of broccoli.


  1. You seriously have strange animals. I mean, broccoli?!? Who eats that???

    Maybe you should try growing something less carnivore-friendly, like, I dunno, wheat. Or mandarins. Or perhaps chooks. Your pets are confused enough they'd probably regard all of those as inedible.

  2. The only thing I've found that Ellen won't eat is lemons, so you might be on to something with the mandarin thing. They're not much good in a stir-fry though.


Free Blog Counter