Because I'd end up with one dumb enough to do that. I would probably come home to find it impaled on the Agave. Hubster and I contemplated it, as far as deciding a hypothetical name of Schrödinger, but no doubt with my plants the cat would be renamed Kebab.
This was our neighbours' cat. She came round to our place for peace and quiet and to be able to sit and purr on someone's knee without having to dodge the crockery being thrown during the neighbours' cocaine-fuelled arguments. The neighbours moved. I presume the cat is still alive. She loved to eat my maidenhair fern.
I'm standing in the middle of a field in darkest Lincolnshire right now. Obviously this post has been set up to go out while I'm away. So you don't get withdrawal symptoms or anything.
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