SHE'S COME UN-POTTED

I came home this afternoon to find one potted plant, un-potted. Black soil and tiny Styrofoam balls were spilled on the floor and sofa. I herded the cats into the living room and began to interrogate. I demanded, “Blah, blah?” And then I waved a stiff hand at the mess and yelled, “Blah! Blah! Blah!” I know they don’t understand words so I didn’t bother to come up with any. They just blinked their little green eyes. The Steady’s cat at least had the decency to look alarmed at my noise.