serial killers

I love my cats, I really do, but they're murderers. Mothers still love their kids if they're murderers, don't they. I know I do. I'm not even talking about the flies they kill daily, to be honest I'm rather grateful for that and there is such a thing as "the food chain" (though I doubt flies are on the menu of cats, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it). What amuses me a lot less is their need to kill all our plants.
We've got three plants on bookshelves, too high for them to reach, though we still find them trying to climb the bookcase in order to get to them. We've got a cactus, they even nibble on that. And then there's the sad, poor little sunflower we procured last week... unfortunately it is no more. I forgot to bring it in the house when I let the cats out yesterday. This morning I discovered it lying face-down, its flower ripped off, on the ground. There's soil everywhere. And it's been raining. So now there's mud everywhere.
Rest In Peace little sunflower.

And to think I wanted a big plant for the living room... I dread to think what they'd do to that.

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