Is it weird that my mind immediately jumped to my tomato seedlings? It’s weird, I think. I’d just set them out to soak up some sun and warm temperatures, and that clatter-bang-boom…
I shot up from my chair, slamming the coffee cup on the table, and raced for the door.
Carnage. Dead bodies everywhere. Limp remains scattered down the stairs to the driveway. My border collie had just massacred my tomato seedlings.
I yelled! I lectured! I raged!
And then I buried the bodies of my little tomato troopers. I don’t hold great hopes of survival, but I tried transplanting them anyway. As valiantly brave as they have been, a border collie mauling is a war-ending battle.
The tomato attack wasn’t really about the tomatoes. Doc hasn’t – to my knowledge – been harboring any deep-seated rage towards tomato plants. He generally chooses to pick on things his own size anyway. However he DOES like to chew on plastic things, and my tomato babies were living on a plastic tray.
I may have slightly over-reacted at the demise of my tomato seedlings. I can get more plants. And unless I have miracle powers of transplanting that I don’t know about, then I will get more tomato plants when my seedlings die. But I won’t be able to start them from seed as the growing season is too short here, and – darn it – for a person who struggles to keep green things alive, it was a huge accomplishment to have those little buggers still with me.