D.O.P.-T.

Frosty this morning. No sign of Ms Whiskers when I put out the catfood, but it had been eaten an hour or so later, somewhat messily. Then I saw her heading across the yard away from the porch, and running smartly across the street—a car passed soon after—and the dish had been polished as usual. So I fear someone else got to it before she did, but at least she didn't freeze.