The latest, for those of you “following” the story, is broken glass thrown over the back fence (where I go barefoot, + the cats’ paws); and smoking-weed smell. I started watering in the dark so they knew I was there, and they quickly whispered, “Let’s start walking.” “Which way?” “This way,” i.e. away from my house.
I’ve been taking photos of their cars in case we have to track them. The landlady didn’t even know their names.
I was wrong about anti-mufflers: one has a souped-up muffler.

Today Psalm 37 seemed especially hopeful.

Maybe we could work them into the musical, L.A.’s home movie.