the good thing about the cages for the holes is they discourage some folks who think the place is closed. there were few people today. yogatrump was there in the morning but he took himself off a distance. i think i'm as abhorrent to him as he is to me. but there were hardly any flesh-eating flies, and we were able to linger. maybe all the flesh-eaters went for yogatrump. in the afternoon there was the big black dog who tried to kill mister with the strange and petulant guy attached. but his friend, or relative? is very nice and stood between mister and the beast, who i'm happy to say may be mellowing some and only barked once. 
it's a testament that we can share the same yards of crumbling sea wall in peace. mister had no fear and even the following day after the attack seemed to have no memory. i think his memory is good for good memories. the trash humping schlubs were not here, though their cans were. i admit i threw some trash in the chain link cage, but i couldn't touch theirs. next time if i say nothing i will snub the schlubs and repel their young dumb energy. they're only twenty-one, but though i was a lush at twenty-one, mama always told me it was not cool to trash the place you love best, and though i didn't always listen to mama, i hear her now. i know it'll be trashed tomorrow. i'll be bringing a bag.