D.O.P.-T.

[weofodthignen]

There's something about days when I wear white. I went out in the hot sun to feed the compost monster a bagful of kitchen peelings and sweep up enough plant bits from the top of the driveway to layer it. That done, I got my other grocery bag and prepared to clear out some of the stuff from under the bushes where the cats go to and fro and may have gone potty, so that goes in the green waste bin rather than the compost. I found the mostly black cat lying under one of them, eyes half open in death. Kitty had pale gums, either from death or from disease, but otherwise looked healthy. I took a couple of photos in case the cat I never named had a person who will be looking. Then I gathered up the limp body in a garbage bag, carried it carefully through the porch room, the dusty white back feet sticking out the top, and buried it tail to head with Ms Bella in the gated side yard, extending the brick and concrete box over the grave. I looked carefully in all the dark corners of our yard for other kitty bodies. Mama Violet was eating on the porch; that was a relief, I'd been worried we'd lost her. Forty and Stumpy came out to watch me as I put the hose away (I watered the ground to help me dig into it). Go with Freyja, proud black and white cat.