I…tried to make a meme and got carried away and made A Thing that is like partially unfinished because i spent like 3 hours on it and then got tired.
I think this is mostly scientifically accurate but truth be told, there seems to be relatively little research on succession in regards to lawns specifically (as opposed to like, pastures). I am not exaggerating how bad they are for biodiversity though—recent research has referred to them as “ecological deserts.”
for a long time i lived alone, but then i got a service dog. after a lot of training, the service dog came to live with me—except, the same day the trainers brought quincy, an orange tabby tomcat also showed up.
“you didn’t tell us you had a cat!” said the trainers, both very upset (because they hadn’t trained quincy to live with a cat).
“i don’t have a cat,” i said. “I don’t know who this is.”
the cat never went away. i named him poe dameron and he lived with me and quincy. they got along fine, in their own way.
we had our quiet adventures. poe was very cuddly but sometimes he just took off for a day or two. once he got into some paint.
after a while, i found out that poe dameron really lived across the alleyway, and belonged to my neighbor elizabeth’s teenaged son, and his real name was PUMPKIN. but poe apparently didn’t like the teenaged son (probably not least because he named him PUMPKIN), so he had come to live with us instead. elizabeth was fine with it.
the years went by and one day poe dameron crossed the rainbow bridge too soon. i took his ashes to elizabeth. we were very sad.
a few weeks later, she asked me to come over to see something.
it turned out that poe dameron had also lived with a THIRD lady, a few streets over. this lady, whom neither of us knew, was a painter, and she had made this painting of poe dameron. i don’t know what she called him, but she painted him like one of your french girls.
“i think you should have it,” elizabeth said, tactfully. “after all, he spent the most time with you.” i was quite sure she just didn’t want this hideous painting in her gabillion-dollar house, but i agreed.
the painting now hangs in the kitchen over my stove—not least because its brick-red frame matches my curtains. and because it delights me to see poe dameron every day, looking so fluffy and sultry, like an orientalist renaissance odalisque.
Everyone reblog consummate cabana boy moocher and orange cat extraordinaire Poe Dameron and his odalisque.
biggest reason i make so many flop posts on here is because everything i do reeks of the desperation to make a popular tumblr post. this is deliberate, because it is what protects me from ACTUALLY making a popular tumblr post. so long as i crave it, tumblr fame will never find me. it is only when i turn away, and accept my fate of obscurity, that people will lay their eyes upon me. and it WILL be because i tripped and fell on my stupid face while i was turning
No, actually, I don’t think my indoor cat would be happier if he could free-roam. For one thing, the feather-toys inside have never died on him mid-playtime, and I feel like that might be a disappointment
As though predetermined by fate I awoke this morning to Ollie standing on top of my chest, fur slightly-damp, and when I went downstairs to investigate whatever shenanigans he had somehow gotten into I found that the back door had somehow blown open in the night.
He has never had unsupervised access to the outdoors before but it appears he stepped outside, found it to be raining slightly, and decided “fuck this shit, I’m getting Dad”
ALT
