Have I ever mentioned how my awful sense of smell is? Awful may not even be the right word, nonexistent is probably closer to the truth.
I have a beautiful pink rose called “April in Paris.” Isn’t that charming? It’s famous for its intense, heady aroma and friends who’ve seen it blooming attest to that in raving terms. Yet when I shove my nose right into the very center of the blossoms, I can only detect the very faintest of rose scent. I am nose blind. R Man for years insisted boxwood had a very distinctive smell which I never once knew. We would be strolling through some lovely parterre and he would suddenly demand “Can’t you smell that?” “Smell what? I would counter. He seemed to be convinced I was just being contrary. And then we would be off on one of those on-going squabbles that are such a feature of long time companionship and which spinsters never seem to grasp.
So what are the few things that actually make a dent in my limited olfactory sense?
- the pungent funk of stinky old man B.O.
- farts by people in line in front of me
- cat pee
Which makes it all the stranger that last week Super Agent Fred and I were noodling around in my guest room, vaguely in preparation of Diane von Austinburg’s upcoming visit (yay!) when he spluttered “Dear god, did Saki pee in here?”
I claimed not smell anything and kept doing so as I leaned in closer and closer until suddenly I was hit by ammoniatic reek. A dense cloud of it. Probably took a year off my life, one I really can’t afford at this late stage.
Poor Diane already has plenty enough to put up with in visiting me so I determined to clean the piss up. I knew that cat piss shows up under a black light, so I bought a small UV flashlight to narrow down the actual site.
It was very much like being in one of those forensic cop shows, but without the terse dialogue and dreadful puns. Amazingly, even though I was choking on the fumes, nothing glowed. What?
Since I wasn’t having any luck in the stinky spot, I idly started flashing the light around on the hall and office floors. Holy shit. It looked like the aftermath of serial killer’s vacation. Every single spot Saki has every puked on (and there were an alarming number) shone like a brilliant purple Jackson Pollack canvas.
If you are an animal owner and you are interested in being horrified about your home hygiene, go ahead and try one of these UV tests, although I have to warn you, you will never sleep well again. Years ago, a vet examining Saki mentioned that “cats don’t vomit for no reason.” I gaped at him, stunned at his lack of experience. Obviously a dog guy, Through the many, many cats I have lived with, they have vomited because they were bored, or mad, or because they ran across a spot the hurled on years before and were feeling nostalgic, but I don’t call that reason or excuse. I think it’s simply perverse.
Anyway, I gotta go mix up a batch of hot water, vinegar and dish soap and attack the scene of Saki’s urine crimes.
Why can’t I have something like this to sniff in the guest room? Why?