Walking into my apartment last Thursday, I was elated by the fact my last class was cancelled and I had plenty of time to get ready for my flight to Paris. However, my mood was immediately soured when I opened the door to my room and smelt something a bit funky. Like a hound dog, I began crawling on the ground, following my nose to the source of the smell. When I got to where it was the strongest, there was nothing around besides a hardwood floor and my closet. I started sniffing the bottoms of my shoes, thinking maybe I stepped in dog poop that lingered on some soles. But there was no trace of anything anywhere. I was certain the smell was not in my head.
I came to the conclusion that one of the two cats that reside in our humble abode must have pooped in my room, all for the housekeeper to clean it up before I noticed, but not good enough to eradicate the smell. With this in mind, I began to pack because I had a flight to catch in a few hours.
But I just could not get that smell out of my nose. Surely, there must be something more. That is when I looked under the bed and saw my rug pushed up against the wall. I pulled the rug away and with it came cat poop aplenty, rendering the smell even stronger. I went to my senora to inform her of the “accident,” and that is when she told me I trapped the cat in my room that morning and that is when the cat must have made it’s mark.
This reminded me of a similar time back at home when my beloved Rainbow left a similar surprise on my bed… Don’t you just love animals?
Thankfully, upon my return from Paris, all was cleaned up with no remnants of the accident. Needless to say, now I do not take my eyes off these fellows whenever I see them lurking near my door.