The most notable probably being the library book she shat on. (Seriously. Who poops on a library book? It was right in the middle of the cover of "The Aussie Nutcracker". Perhaps she is a blossoming literary critic? Or more likely, just sharing her views on castration.) She also made short work of my watch band and several DVDs.
|I eat flowers like you for breakfast!|
We received a folder of delightfully!!!! over punctuated!!! instructions!!!! from the breed's secretary explaining that all we need to do to prevent her chewing is simply keep everything out of reach, which is very wise advice, but clearly not suited to a family who also includes Bug-the-poltergeist.
Things are rarely where we left them, and we could deal with that, but now things are rarely-where-we-left-them-and-chewed. That's more challenging. Vale leather watch band. Vale TV remote. Vale shoe after shoe after shoe.
Also, vale investment hydrangea. I had bought it as table flowers for Bug's first birthday, then planted it out into the courtyard. She was thriving! As happy as a hydrangea could possibly be, sitting with her feet in a bed of high quality potting soil and well aged fertilizer.
But every good story needs a villain. Enter Pan, stage right, (then left, then right again - she's bouncy.)
After ripping the new flowers off my winter bulbs, she decided she had room for dessert. And now my hydrangea is just a gnawed twig, poking from the ground like a skeleton hand from the grave where gardening dreams go to die. Well, she would be, except it turns out Pan moonlights as a grave robber. When she was done chewing she dug up the root ball, too.
Mr A returned to a wife who was a wee bit annoyed.
Luckily, he owns both a credit card and a sense of humour.
Enter the "gift of forgiveness".
Now, Mr A is a thoughtful lad, but thus far he's never been accused of finding the perfect present. In the not-too-distant past I seem to remember receiving an anti-snoring pillow as a pregnancy gift, and a saucepan for a birthday present. Not that I snore. EVER. Ahem.
So what did he come up with this time?
He was very pleased with his choice, it was so hard for him not to let slip what it might be....
Was it a winner?
Flowers in a hanging cage!
They came with an explanatory note, too.
And I tested them against the wiliest flower puller I know.
Success! That's one very safe pot plant.
Aren't they gorgeous? I've loved cyclamen for years, they remind me of the time Mr A and I met up in Rome for a whirlwind week, halfway through our deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. (You want romance and hand holding? Had it in spades.)
Well done, Mr A - all is forgiven.