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Yesterday she stepped out of the shade and looked both ways before cautiously stepping onto the driveway. Then she paused to have her picture taken. The day felt special.

Today is a new day and the first thing I noticed was the hoof prints in the flower bed just in front of the door. The three flowers cropped close to the ground were not a big concern but then I noticed the flower pot that had so recently been overflowing with Purple Wave Petunias. It had been neatly pruned all the around the edge and nearly all the lovely blooms were gone from the top. That was when my less than sympathetic husband named her Petunia and said I suppose she needs to eat too. 

Miss Petunia had also strolled through the yard and I noted her preferences. There were only a few twigs missing from the Mountain Ash and the Horse Chestnut sapling—perhaps a little too chewy.  Hostas are tasty—half a plant was enough as an appetizer, with a few Columbine tops. Then came her main course, a nice long row of Phlox just getting ready to bloom—flower buds are the best.

Miss Petunia, you are no longer welcome. Please cross my yard off your list of favourite dining locations and please do not recommend it to your friends.