They spend Sunday morning buying plants. He buys veggies (tomatoes, peppers, herbs, etc)...she buys flowers.
He's in charge of planting the garden, she's in charge of filing the pots on the back deck.
One afternoon after work, she comes home and does just that.....fills all the pots. Ponders over what to put where.....and then digs in, literally.
The finished product is happy, fun, and colorful. Bright pots of colorful Gerber daisies and other things she doesn't know the names of.
Names aren't important though. It looks nice. She can't WAIT to get more pots and make the big bare back deck into an oasis of color.
He wakes her up on his way out the door this morning. "Uh...honey?"
"Hmmmm?" (still clinging to the last minutes of sleep)
"I'm sorry. I tried to pick up all the pieces."
She's instantly awake. She puts on her robe and walks to the kitchen.
Through the window she can see the aftermath.....the debris.....the horror.
The back deck is covered.....COVERED.....in mud, muck, greenery....and bright little bits of plant life here and there.
She could tell he'd tried to pick up the pieces before he woke her. You could tell where he tried to put the plants (or what was left of them) in the pots they came from.
She loves him for it more than anything.
As for the dog.......
.....she's priced to sell.
(Badass - you get first dibs if you want her.)