No, not the fog coming in that Carl Sandburg wrote so eloquently about in a poem. But an actual neighborhood cat nosing about in the garage and inspecting the paint job on this cabinet door. Okay, it's my fault because I left the door open for some fresh air. At least the paint was dry and the dusty little feets prints wiped right off.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Newt has left evidence on the TV cabinet that he was investigating something back there. So now I have to dust. I eventually get around to these tedious household tasks, really, I do. But it's far easier to ignore the dust when it has a nice, undisturbed look to it. If only he would consent to be trained to do the dusting. Just flop over and move about until the dust is displaced. It's the least he could do.
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