Oh. Mon. Dieu. It’s every cat owner’s nightmare: you hear your little sod making that horking sound, you rush to the source with tissues and antiseptic spray, and there’s no puke to be found.
The last time this happened was (I think) May 2016. I am still looking for that one.
This time, not only did I hear the horking but I also heard the splattery thwack as the puke hit the floor. Horrifying, indeed, but this told me that it was on floor, at least, and not on carpet or soft furnishings. And, thanks to the disgusting yet reassuring echo of the splattery thwack, I also knew that it was out in the open and not secretly left to fester until the tragic day that I discovered it by opening a drawer or slipping my unsuspecting foot into a seldom-worn shoe. But, upon racing into the kitchen, I was greeted by the sight of a lip-smacking Roi and nothing else.
Où est le puke?
“I don’t understand,” I said to Cat Daddy. “I heard its sound, clear as anything. Why can’t I find it?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, without looking up from his laptop. “You will.”
Louis Catorze’s fur is in a dreadful state due to the non-stop rolling in the workmen’s dust and garden soil. It’s not just surface dust that can be easily brushed away; believe me, we’ve tried. Somehow it has penetrated quite deeply and, whilst he looks ok in photos (apart from this one, clearly), when you stroke him he feels gritty, claggy and vile. He doesn’t appear to be aware that he’s gritty, claggy and vile, but then he’s not aware of much.
Cat Daddy thinks he needs a proper wash with water, which could be true. But, if you have followed Le Blog for a while, I think you can probably anticipate how that will end. There’s also the fact that work in Le Jardin is still ongoing so, if we wash him, he’ll only go straight out and roll around in dirt again. The one thing worse than the prospect of washing such a dangerous, psycho cat is the prospect of having to do it twice.
Yet leaving him with filth-drenched fur is not an appealing thought, especially as he has skin problems, and, if he grooms the gritty, claggy, vile fur, it essentially means he will eat the dirt.
So … what do you think? To wash or not to wash?