The Day My Fiddle-Leaf Fig Sided With My Cat
It all started innocently enough. I was a new plant parent, excited to welcome a majestic fiddle-leaf fig – let’s call him Ferdinand – into my humble abode. Little did I know, Ferdinand would turn out to be the judgiest roommate I’ve ever had (and I once lived with a girl who alphabetized her spice rack).
One evening, chaos erupted as my cat, Luna, decided the new, leafy addition to our home was, in fact, a jungle gym. Ferdinand swayed precariously as Luna batted at his leaves. I rushed in to intervene, scooping up the feline offender and issuing a stern talking-to. And that’s when I saw it: a single, perfect fiddle-leaf slowly detaching itself from the top of Ferdinand’s stem, spiraling dramatically to the floor.
The Case of the Disapproving Droop: Are My Plant’s Needs More Important Than Mine?
As the weeks went by, I became increasingly convinced that Ferdinand was developing an intricate system of passive-aggressive communication – all centered around his leaves.
For example, I swear he droops just a little lower whenever I order takeout for the third night in a row. (Hey, cooking is time-consuming, and sometimes a girl just needs her pad thai, okay?)
And don’t even get me started on the watering situation. I’m convinced Ferdinand waits until I’m about to head out the door for a first date, important meeting, or, you know, anything remotely time-sensitive, to suddenly develop the thirstiest, most dramatic wilt known to humankind.
“Oh, you’re leaving NOW?” he seems to hiss, leaves drooping lower than my self-esteem after a bad haircut. “But what about MY needs?!”