My Cat, the Gardener

I have a plant. I don't know what it is. It sits by my east-facing sliding glass window, looking very happy.
How do I know the plant is happy?
It's green and sleek, nary a brown spot, keeps growing upward and outward.
And it makes babies.
I've snipped off the babies, when they were ready to leave Mother, and repotted them.
So I now have lots of this don't-know-what-it-is plant.
Tidus, the cat, loves this plant. I can't keep him away from it. It must be tasty because he keeps chewing the tips of the long leaves.
I've tried shewing him away, yelling at him, spraying him with a spray-bottle.
But each morning there are plant shreds lying on the tiled floor next to the what's-its-name plant.
But the plant is happy.
It keeps growing upward and outward.
I've said in an earlier post that cats are like God. (I'm not being blasphemous, really. You'll have to read that post.)
Cats like to prune. And so does God.
Tidus has helped my unknown plant thrive by his constant pruning.
God makes us thrive, too, by pruning the old, dead places in our hearts, clearing the way for new growth.
Helping us grow upward and outward.
So that we keep on making "babies."

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful." (John 15:1)