Dear Neighbours Who Are Renovating, I have great news: you won’t need to bother sweeping up your dust today. Our silly, once-black cat has taken the liberty of trespassing onto your property, and he has brought most of it* home in his coat.
*It = the dust, not the property. Although both work equally well in this context.
Cat Daddy is repulsed beyond belief and, between all the unrepeatable expletives, is threatening to deploy the water cannon again.
It’s very difficult to photograph a dirty black cat, as both over-exposure and light reflection can make a (clean) true black cat look grey and, likewise, dirt can look like a trick of the light. This was the best that I could manage:
Louis Catorze is filthy. It’s just foul. He’s so dirty that I had to check twice to make sure that it was really him and not some grey cat who had randomly wandered in, as appears to be the custom in our street with cats forever straying from their designated lanes. Whilst I am not surprised that Catorze would be so gross, nor that he would gravitate towards a place with big, strapping workmen, what does astonish me is that a cat who is awaiting dental surgery, and therefore isn’t supposed to be feeling very well, has the energy and the inclination to go to places where he has no business being, and to roll around like an idiot. (Yes, he has definitely rolled. The dust is too deeply embedded, and there is far too much of it, to have got there just by him brushing past something.)
Anyway, brushing hasn’t done much good and, short of holding him up by his tail and beating the crud out of him, the way people used to de-dust their carpets, there isn’t a great deal more that I can do. And, yes, despite everything, I have been pathetic enough to allow him onto my lap, dirt and all.