The Time My Fiddle Leaf Fig Sided With My Cat
We’ve all been there. It’s 2 pm, you’re still in your pajamas, and the only witness to your shame is a leafy green companion perched on the windowsill. Or so you thought.
I swear, my fiddle leaf fig, Ferdinand, develops this superior air after I’ve had a particularly unproductive day. You know the look—the subtle droop of his largest leaf, the way he seems to lean slightly away from the pile of laundry I’ve yet to fold. It all started when my cat, Luna, knocked over his meticulously watered pot (okay, maybe I was a tad late on the watering).
Instead of wilting dramatically like any self-respecting drama queen plant, Ferdinand seemed to…straighten. He held his ground. Since that day, I’m convinced there’s a silent pact between them, judging my every move.
Look, I’m not saying Ferdinand is about to stage a coup and banish me from my own apartment (though, with the way rent prices are going, who knows?). But his passive-aggressive tendencies are undeniable. Consider the evidence:
- The Dramatic Wilt: This one happens without fail. The second I forget to water him (or, heaven forbid, overwater), Ferdinand transforms into a Victorian lady who’s just fainted. The theatrics are real, people.
- The Strategic Leaf Drop: I’m convinced he waits until I’ve just vacuumed to shed a leaf. Just one. Right in the middle of the living room floor. Coincidence? I think not.
- The Side-Eye: Okay, maybe plants can’t technically “side-eye,” but the way he seems to tilt ever so slightly when I’m binge-watching reality TV? Pure judgment.
Do Plants Have Feelings? Decoding the Silent Language of Plants
I’ve tried everything to appease my leafy overlord. Classical music? Check. Daily affirmations? Check. A carefully curated Instagram feed dedicated to his every leaf and angle? You bet. Yet, the judgment persists.
Maybe it’s not him, it’s me. Perhaps the pressure of keeping another living thing alive (even one that requires significantly less maintenance than a goldfish) has finally gotten to me. Or maybe, just maybe, plants have a sixth sense, a way of knowing when we’re not living up to our full potential.