D.O.P.-T.

There's a small house across from the bank I usually use that is basically moldering into the landscape. The bushes have grown around the windows and are licking the roof, which has been in need of repair for a decade. The front door appears to have warped into unusability. In winter an RV is usually parked at the top of the driveway, presumably because it has better insulation. One day years ago we passed the place on walkies and a cloud of orange butterflies were enjoying the flowering bush by the front window. There used to always be several cats around the yard; when I first noticed the place, that front window had a torn screen through which they passed in and out; the bush has now covered the hole. There also used to be two or three cats at the place next door, which has a "granny flat" in back where the feeding station was; those people moved out and as a result the cat population went down, and recently there had been a dumpster parked in the little house's driveway so I wondered whether the owner had died and the place was being cleared. However, yesterday morning I saw half a dozen hairy cats in a rough circle on the front lawn, and feet under the tree there. A guy in shorts and a vast white beard was engrossed in his cellphone. Presumably the house's and cats' person. Looked a bit like Gorey, but he's dead.