D.O.P.-T.

[weofodthignen]

We have a chance of rain this evening, and it was cool and cloudy most of the day, so the humans celebrated by making a lot of noise. Military jets kept flying over—I presume a fleet week in San Francisco—and there was a big kids' party on the block, with a fair amount of screaming and running around. As the wind picked up, a white balloon became entrapped in the bushes in our front yard. When I went around from the side door to get it and put it where they could easily retrieve it, my appearance spooked Pru, who had been snoozing in the cat bed in the chair on the porch. Apparently screaming jets, squealing kids, and bits of trees and a balloon sailing past were not seriously scary, but my appearance from the wrong direction was.