D.O.P.-T.

I hadn't seen either Monty or Mama Violet in a week or more, although the wet food plate has sometimes been licked totally clean by mid-afternoon, which is usually Mama Violet's calling card. So I was glad to hear from the housemate that she'd seen two ginger cats, both with tails, having a slap-fight in the driveway when she was getting her morning coffee. This afternoon was hot; as I fed the coffee grounds to the compost monster, Monty emerged slowly down the magnolia tree, followed by Forty, and they basked amicably side by side on the concrete, with the catnip mousie between them. Pru looked on from the top of the fence, and later came up on the porch and ate a bit. So the neighbors—and perhaps the local rat population—must just be providing better pickings.