I have a really mild cold, and apparently my nose was affected last
night because I had absolutely NO problem with the garlic "tea" I was
drinking before bed. Well, this morning I made another cuppa and was
nearly blown over backward by the stench. Poor Daley-poo!! He hates
garlic!! Well, anyway, a few minutes ago, Dale called to me and asked
if my nose was working. I said, "Not sure, why," thinking perhaps I
smelled worse than last night or something and didn't know it. He
said he kept smelling "dead animal" smell.
Well, as much as I hate the smell of rotting flesh, and as much as the
mere thought of it can make me gag when my throat is already feeling
coated with slimy mucous, I can't turn down an informal invite to
define and locate the source of whatever it was he smelled. So I got
up and went to walk into his den.
I didn't get very far when I was hit with a whiff of death-aroma. I
stopped and fought a faint gag. It faded. So I told Dale he was most
definitely right - it was certainly the unmistakeable odor of death -
and then I took to hunting all over the floor, sniffing vents, behind
the entertainment center, the catnip scratch box... and only caught
the occasional whiff. Dale admitted that he smelled it more near the
floor, too, but otherwise, we were perplexed by the lack of source. I
tried to take note of any drafts that might be dragging wafts of the
stench our way, but those tests were inconclusive as the drafts were
not sufficiently strong enough to lead me. Like a bloodhound, I
scampered across the floor, holding my cough in check lest I catch a
whiff again and puke my brains out during a would-be short coughing
fit. I couldn't smell it under the couch or chair so I figured maybe
it's near Dale's desk? After all, he's still smelling it off and on,
and he's sitting there, and that's the wall where I first smelled it,
so...?
I stuck my nose in between his desk and the armoire and was greeted
with a reassuringly strong sign of death. I estimated it was likely 2
or 3 days since whatever it was fell off its mortal coil. Oh, joy.
He said, "Ok. I can look for it from here, then, thanks." But I
hadn't seen it. I wasn't satisfied with grossing myself out that
much, I wanted to know for certain as to what the source was, no
matter how heartbreaking or disgusting it might be!! He repeated
himself as I dug in behind the flags, the little foldup chair, peeking
behind the armoir, sniffing, searching, eyes piercing the dark
recesses for any sign of decay. The smell faded behind the armoir.
His desk, then.
'twas a fat little mouse, fast asleep for eternity upon his
Uninterruptible Power Supply. Just a foot from his foot, no less. It
would appear that UPSes only work for electronics, for when the little
bugger lost his life, the backup whose outlets he had so carefully
laid his tiny little body between utterly failed to generate power for
his tiny heart.
Another one bytes the dust, I'm afraid. I only hope it was a quick
death. I will say that with two hunters around, no mouse will live in
this house for very long without being a caged captive in my direct
care.
~nv
