Her name is Angel, ironically, since she has turned out to be a murderer. A merciless killer who preys on helpless victims – the frail ones that can’t fight back.
Like blueberry bushes. I say bushES because over the last 24 hours she has killed four of them (if you count the two times she killed the same victim).
Initially, I planted three of them. Angel killed two right away. Apparently the little seedlings looked like sticks and she loves to play with sticks. I can almost read her little pea-brain now: “AWESOME! He stuck them in the ground to make the game more challenging! He really DOES love me.”
One of the little plants survived the massacre long enough to be replanted. Angel pulled it out again when my back was turned, then shredded it in a macabre display of sadistic cruelty.
I bought a tomato fence to protect the lone survivor. Angel pulled the little guy out through the fence while I was planting a couple of replacement seedlings I had just bought. There was no body – only the muddy remains of potting soil and peat moss in the hole where a living organism had once lived.
So now all that is left are the two new ones, and both are terrified. Sure, they are protected by tomato fences and wire mesh, but frankly, they aren’t buying my assurance of protection. They know their grisly end is inevitable. In fact, one already has teeth marks in it (she grabbed it while it was still in the bag).
If that happens, I’ll be sad, but I won’t worry about it. I’ll only worry when she runs out of sticks.
And begins to look at me.