A couple of weeks ago Vivani Catpants came home looking a little scruffy. Sure, that long winter coat of hers accretes its share of flora—broken blackberry canes, redwood twigs, a very memorable incident with a rhodedendron flower—but she's very good at keeping it up. So I was surprised to see it dirty. I helped her comb it out, and noticed that she smelled slightly doggy. I don't know; maybe she got into someone else's bedding or stuff. She does get around the neighborhood.
But then she came home last week, and instead of sauntering to the kitchen for a bite or easing into one of her napping spots, she stood in the living room and loudly announced, "I am home! See? I'm back. Notice anything? Huh? Huh?"
So I took a look. Her fur was dirty and matted. But, it wasn't raining. And it was only dirty and matted under her chin, on her crazy-long, white poufy ruff. I knelt down and felt for wounds. None. Was it grease or oil from a car? No. Was it wet? Oh, yes! And that smell...I scooped her up. "Hey, Greg. The cat got into something. Do you see anything?"
"No..." Sniff, sniff. "She smell like dog."
So, when your dog-avoidant cat comes home, loudly announces it, and has a soppy-wet neck, no wounds, and stinks of dog, you have to wonder, What is going on here?
What IS going on here? I have no idea.