Danny and the Garden

A few months ago, I took up a new hobby when I chanced upon starter kits for cherry tomatoes and basil. Now, traditionally, plants die on me from a tiny cactus (under watered) to a monkey cup plant (over watered) to a lost mint plant (yes, lost) to a God-knows-what plant in a terrarium (because plants just hate me). Seriously, how do you kill a plant in terrarium?

I digress. Anyway, the grow kits came with a little sign that said "Guaranteed to Grow". The failed gardener in me sat up. I figured if I can get anything to grow from seeds, I would have redeemed myself for all my past plant sins. So I grabbed one of each, carefully followed the instructions on the box and then jumped for joy when a few days later I saw this:

Success! I was happily showing them off when it occurred to me that they would all probably grow a fair bit bigger and I would need to replant them at some point. Eeep.

I won't bore you with the details, suffice to say that after several repottings and seedling funerals (including those which had been roasted alive under the Singapore sun) later, I wound up with a nice batch of basil...

...as well as a small handful of flowering cherry tomato plants.

So what does this have to do with Danny?

Over the weekend, I did what was hopefully my last repotting of basil. To do this, I headed out to the nursery to get fresh soil and fertilizer. When I got back, the first thing I did was to sprinkle fertilizer on the cherry tomatoes. Nosey, of course, got wind of the action. He came scurrying in and then screeched to a halt when he smelt the fertilizer. He poked his nose into one of the pots and started sniffing about. Then he stuck out his tongue... Yes. Eew.

Thankfully it was organic.

I scolded him and tried to push him off but the allure of dehydrated chicken dung proved too much for him and he held his ground. Finally, I was forced to get up and chase him from the area. I quickly watered the plants so the fertilizer would soak into the soil and left, thinking his new-found fetish was restricted to dried bird poop.

I should be so lucky.

The next day, I began the repotting. To do so, I opened bags of soil and emptied them into various pots. Once again, Poop Breath came along. I had a pot filled with soil in front of me and eyed him as he took a quick sniff. Then he looked up at me and casually sat next to the pot. When I didn't say anything, he lay down next to it with his mouth just hanging over the edge. After studying him for a bit, I went back about my business. He quickly took the opportunity to dip his head into the pot and took a couple of quick licks.

I yelled at him, took the pot and placed it next to me. Danny pretended he didn't care. He got up and nonchalantly strolled around me pausing to sniff the ground here and there, and eventually wound up lying down next to the pot again. When I put a bit of plastic between him and the pot, he surreptitiously tried to push it away... Seriously, dog, now you're just being insulting.

I did the rest of the repotting as quickly as possible and brought the plants up to the attic where they would be safe from the soil eater.

He probably smelt something that seemed like food (though I'm quite sure his dog food doesn't smell that bad), or maybe he thought he needed a more luscious cost of fur. Either way, Danny is now officially banned from the herb garden. Period.

"Did someone say fertilizer?"