Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Willow the Gardener.

I'm taking over Willow's blog for a few minutes to share one of her little quirks- her compulsion for tomatoes. When she was a little puppy, which honestly seems like yesterday, I used to grow tomatoes in the summertime. I'd plant my little plants, water them diligently, prune back the suckers, and wait until some tomatoes showed up. Unbeknownst to me, Willow was doing some watching of her own. Each morning, I would excitedly check to see if anything was growing or ripening, and as soon as one would start to get a little red, I'd expect a tasty tomato in a day or two. The next day, it would be gone. Just that one tomato. This happened repeatedly. Soon I began to suspect foul play. Sure enough, my little Boxer was checking out the plants herself, and pulling off the ripening tomatoes and running around the yard with them in her mouth. After watching her, my jaw agape, doing this once, I went out to investigate the yard. Indeed, several half-ripe tomatoes with Boxer-teeth marks were strewn all about- not eaten, just poked with teeth holes, and maybe a little bite out of one or two, but that bit was then spit out right near the abandoned tomato. Apparently, my puppy thought I was growing red tennis balls. Once I had her number, I was sure to get a tomato for myself. Not. She was so quick to get the "next" tomato, every time, that I had zero tomatoes that year. I tried again the following summer, pretty confident that she'd be more mature and able to refrain from pillaging my plants. Um, no. Another summer of Crazy Dog Running With Tomato (her Native American name) and me having, well, no tomatoes. She even became so brazen that she would look at me, look at the plant, rip off a tomato and run away. Sure. Dog comedian. I wasn't laughing. The following two summers, I took off from tomato farming, and this summer, I thought I would try again. But I was going to win this time. Willow is older now, and no way was a tomato going to interest her, I was sure of it. So, I planted four grape tomato plants (they don't look at ALL like a tennis ball) and waited. I watched the plants fill up with little green tomatoes. It seemed I may have been watering too much, or too little, because a lot of tomatoes were falling off and laying on the patio. Really, really far from the plant itself. I didn't think much of it. Round things roll, right? As they turned red, I harvested a bunch, and noticed that some of the red ones were also falling off, and we must have been stepping on them, because they were smooshed into the brick patio. I didn't recall stepping on any, but who knows. It's a tiny tomato. Could happen. At least I was getting some of my harvest this time around. And then, one day, I looked out the window and saw Willow. At the tomato plant. Biting off tomatoes, spitting them onto the ground and STEPPING on them until they were smooshed. Very purposefully. Because she did it more than once. I went outside to confront her about this, and she looked completely like a deer in headlights and immediately put on her most ashamed face and best wiggle butt and came over like maybe what she was doing was the cutest thing ever. I informed her it was NOT cute, but rather a little disturbing, but I don't think she was listening because then she took off after a bunny. Dogs.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Dogs love Grill Night!