In the immortal words of Lynyrd Skynyrd:
Ooh that smell
Collins/Van Zandt
Can’t you smell that smell
Ooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
This song has been in my head all week. You can mostly thank good old screwed-up Harvey for that.
The story: we came home last Monday and kept smelling something. It was about as unpleasant as smells get, quite close to skunk spray. We quickly determined it was coming from the dogs that had so enthusiastically greeted us upon our arrival.
No, it was Harvey and to a lesser extent, Penney, who each had suspiciously damp spots on them. The spots reeked. We blamed ourselves for letting them out while we unloaded the car, since it was clear that the horses had gotten out while we were out of town, judging from the extra-fresh deposits dotting the property.
We tried to remove the wretched spots, but Harvey wasn’t having anything of it. There was attempted hose squirting, damp towel wiping, and in total desperation, Febreeze spraying (yes, I’m aware that’s probably not good for him, but he already has a terminal illness, so I went for it).
New development: on Wednesday, I was sitting by the pool and heard Penney crunching something. What was it? A very putrid and extra-decayed armadillo carcass, identifiable only by the tail. I got a towel and picked the sickening mess up, tossing it over the fence. Eww.
I then saw Penney heading to a spot in the yard. Oh no, it’s where the carcass had been, a slimy, disgusting mess of decaying animal. I almost barfed, and I did not stop to take a picture of it. Thank me now.
I thought fast and put my fake cactus over it to prevent future rolling activities. When Lee came home, I showed him, and he brought over a giant bucket full of concrete. First he put a net down to ensure the whole goo pile was covered, then the heavy bucket no dog could move. The cactus was an attempt at making it decorative. But, as long as no dog can get to it, I do not care.
Meanwhile, no amount of air freshener, essential oil, Scentsy products, or other things that bother Lee’s sensitive nose were able to remove the scent. Time has helped a little, thankfully, but you can still tell when Harvey walks by. The smell of death surrounds him!
Do you think we were done with the putrid ‘dillo? Au contraire. Thursday I was sitting on the patio enjoying the pleasant weather when I heard the tell-tale crunching. Dang it, Penney had found another piece of yuck. I discovered it was a lower jaw, judging from the little teeth. Great. Over the fence it went.
Done yet? Oh no, it’s the ick that keeps on icking. Lee mowed the lawn one last time for the year and apparently spread little bony bits that had been hiding. Penney found them. She’s persistent.
I think we are done now. You may wonder why the resident scavengers didn’t take care of that carcass for us. That’s easy. Alfred and Goldie would have none of those interlopers in their realm. Thanks, guys.
Let’s hope the smell wears off soon. Please.
The Hermits' Rest 