Dust. What is it? That is the question on everyone’s mind here in Moose County, and I have taken it upon myself to investigate. You’re welcome.
Dust is small. It is also very light. It floats in the air sometimes. Other times it settles on surfaces. Why does it do this? No one can say for certain, though my moustache gave a peculiar tingle this morning when I noticed a thin layer of it on the Staffordshire figurines in the west wing of the barn. I have learned, over a long and distinguished career in journalism, to trust that tingle. Something was afoot.
Koko, of course, had already deduced this. He sat on the dictionary stand staring at the word “particulate” with an intensity that would unnerve a lesser man. Yum Yum, meanwhile, had positioned herself on the exact windowsill where the dust motes were most visible in the afternoon light, tracking each one with the precision of a forensic analyst. These are not ordinary cats. They never have been.
Speaking of dust, there has been quite a lot of it since the old Limburger mansion burned down last month. That makes the fourteenth structure fire in Pickax this year, which seems about average for a peaceful town of three thousand. The fire marshal ruled it suspicious, and several people looked at me when I arrived at the scene, which I thought was rude. I happened to be driving past. At two in the morning. On a road I don’t normally take. My moustache had tingled.
The cleanup effort is being partially funded by the Klingenschoen Fund, which I oversee with the utmost fiscal responsibility. I personally approved the expenditure of fourteen dollars for dust masks, though I did question whether volunteers really needed them. Fresh air is free. Is dust even dangerous? Probably not.
I would have researched this topic further, but someone has been stealing birdseed from my feeder again, and I had to spend the morning standing at the window with binoculars. It turned out to be birds. You can never be too careful. Koko watched the entire affair from the kitchen counter, his ears rotating like satellite dishes, cataloguing every sparrow. He knows things.
In conclusion, dust is everywhere. It is unavoidable. It is part of life in Moose County, much like arson and unexplained death. Can it be stopped? Should it be stopped? These are questions I leave to minds less occupied than my own.
Dust.
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