Steaks and Roses

The Gus Report

I have discovered that Brianna and Sophie, those two piglet sisters, have been pushing Gus away from his food. As a result, I now sit next to Gus as he eats and I fend off those two. Who are surprisingly aggressive.

To further confirm Gussy's time is short, I've noticed the other cats taking swipes at him.

But last night, I had Gus on my chest and I pet him. He purred and snortled. But mostly, he purred.

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Roses

My grandmother had a tiny rose garden of maybe six or seven roses when I was a kid. And there were other roses around the yard, too. In the summer, our house was always scented with roses because Grandma would put a bowl of roses on the dining room table at the center of the tiny house.

I have yearned for roses. I have begged and pleaded for roses. I have been ignored. Briefly, I had three rose bushes in Florida, but I think a jaguarundi ate them. Either a jaguarundi or black spot and Japanese beetles.

Last night, I ordered three hybrid tea rose bushes from Jackson and Perkins. The roses are advertised as being very fragrant, which is what I'm after.

Knowing that I, the office marshmallow, am not about to go digging in hardpan clay, I set about my fiendish plan a couple of weeks ago.

I placed an order with Omaha Steaks.

Stash loves steak. He is a bbqing fiend.

Granted, he does a lot around my yard anyway (including killing anything I plant), but I knew I was going to have to get him to plant the roses for me.

On Monday, I ran into Stash and mentioned something about putting roses in my yard. He hemmed and hawed, which is unusual for him.

On Tuesday, the steaks arrived. Stash pounded on my door and thanked me. I have never before seen his face so alight.

"Oh," he said, "And you just let me know when you get those roses. I'll put 'em right in for you."

Yep. Thought so.