This is the first year that I have ever grown my own vegetables. I have tomatoes, peppers, alpine strawberries, and a bunch of assorted herbs and spices. I bought all new pots in the spring, organic seedlings and have, for the first time in my life, remembered to water everything religiously. Nobody has been as excited as I have been to watch my little plants grow. Jay bought me rainbow-coloured tomato stands and soil and we have been inspecting and encouraging the plants at every opportunity.
My tiny tomatoes began to sprout! I waited patiently for them to ripen.
Then: Wilfred visited.
It was carnage. Pure. Tomato. Carnage. One night spent in Hamilton and my tiny, vulnerable Toronto garden was devastated.
The little bastard wasn't even discriminating. He ate the ripe tomatoes. He ate the green tomatoes. He ate the leaves of the tomatoes. He ate the leaves of the pepper. HE ATE MY TABLE CLOTH.
The worst part was that he didn't really ACTUALLY eat anything. It was like all the tomatoes were play toys and after piercing them with his razor fangs he abandoned them to rot in chunks across my deck.
I thought about eating them anyways but I don't really know where Wilfred stands on the subject of regular doctor's visits and on the off chance that he has a highly contagious disease, I opted for burying the tomatoes in the dirt that birthed them.
My neighbour (who is a MANIAC) has been trying to kill Wilfred. His latest scheme was to set up a massive electrified trap in his back yard that would kill Wilfred if he walked across it. Our other neighbour pointed out to him that if it rains, that trap might burn his entire house down (never mind that it also might kill cats and dogs and innocent birds). So he recently removed it and it's like Wilfred has been celebrating life without random added voltage buzzes ever since by eating everything in sight.
Even though I totally have it out for Wilfred (and I mean... if I run across him when I am holding a pitchfork he is going to have nightmares for months), I still don't believe in electrocuting innocent animals.
I've planted a land-mine-disguised-as-a-tomato instead.