We were all in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. Charlotte asked to be excused and when she walked toward the family room she came across Rocky. "MOM!" she shouted, "Rocky is all pink!"
I walked over to investigate and found that indeed, large patches of Rocky's fur were neon pink. It wasn't wet and didn't smell like anything. It was on his head, sides, front paws, and face. We shut him up in the laundry room and did what Sally Cat (from Busytown Mysteries) would have done -- took pictures.
We started combing the house, looking for what on earth could have turned Rocky so pink. Nothing on the main floor looked like the culprit, so I decided to check the basement. Before I was halfway down the stairs I spotted a large, bright pink spot on the concrete floor.
Charlotte, following close behind me, explained she had been "decorating" the basement floor with chalk. Apparently, Rocky had headed down there to go potty (the cats' litter boxes are down there) and had fallen in love with the pink spot. He must have pawed at it and rolled in it for a while in order to get such good coverage. Luckily, I can't find any footprints or anything else that got stained by the chalk (other than a Snoopy stuffed animal that Peter dragged through it before I could get it all wiped up).
We hauled Mr. Pinky upstairs and hosed him down in the kids' bathroom. The chalk washed out easily and I didn't even need to use any shampoo. Peter shrieked with glee as he saw Rocky shrink from his normal magnificent fluffiness down to this:
"Can you turn him back into Wocky again?" Peter asked.
Poor Rocky is now licking himself all over and desperately trying to forget the traumatic experience. Decorating the basement floor has now been banned, and we're all headed outside to investigate what the workmen are doing at the very back of our yard (where the heavy equipment was parked while the neighborhood was getting repaved, the grass is being replanted and sprinkler systems reinstalled). WHEW.
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