Scarier than a horror movie
Last night, Jason and I went downstairs to eat in front of the TV. (Because we are fancy.)
Right before I sat down, I smelled cat poop.
“Ugh!” I said. “Someone just dropped a dook!” I quickly disposed of the deposit, subconsciously noting its smaller-than-normal size, before sitting back down to my plate before Sunny filched my deliciously marinated steak.
After doing the dishes and coming back downstairs, I still smelled something stinky. I checked the litter box again, but nothing was amiss. No litter strewn about in a happy-go-lucky manner, no missed deposits, no cat dragging their butt along the carpeting.
But yet, every few minutes I caught a faint whiff of crap, to the point I was starting to doubt my sanity. I thought maybe I was experiencing a stroke or having olfactory hallucinations. “Great,” I thought. “Some people smell flowers or baked goods. I smell poop.”
Jason even went on a poop hunt for me, looking underneath our coffee table and checking the cats’ butts. All clear.
And yet the smell of phantom feline feces remained. After a few more minutes, I sat up on the couch and said, “I can still smell CAT POOP.”
Jason then sat up and with a comical eye pop, pointed to the floor and said, “That’s because there’s some RIGHT THERE!!!”
And he wasn’t joking. There on the carpet, less than four inches from my foot and even more importantly, less than 10 inches from where I had been eating, sat a perfectly formed and horrifically long cat turd.
“EEEEWWW!” we both screamed, as I ran to get toilet paper to clean it up and Jason rubbed his arms to get rid of the giant case of heeby-jeebies he recently acquired.
“Jesus,” I said, incredulous. “How did we not see THAT? It was practically touching my FOOT!”
“God!” Jason said. “That is freaking disgusting.”
“It was on the floor all along, right? It’s not like it fell out of the blanket I JUST PUT ON MY LAP, RIGHT?!?”
And then we spent the rest of the night alternately screaming and sanitizing everything in our house while the cats napped, the end.
Ewwwwwww. I like you had the same simultaneous reaction. But still. Ew.
Comment by Jess — October 30, 2007 @ 12:11 pm
HA HA HA HA!! Oh, that is hilarious, disgusting, and unfortunate. And hilarious.
Comment by Artemisia — October 30, 2007 @ 12:34 pm
Also, smellier than a horror movie.
Comment by My Buddy Mimi — October 30, 2007 @ 12:41 pm
Ha ha!
Unfortunately, I’ve had a similar experience except it involved kid poop. Not just heeby jeebies then, but jibbly jibblies…
Comment by Gretchen — October 30, 2007 @ 12:55 pm
OMG, I’ve so been there. I hate it when the whiff of poo is in the air and you cannot discern the source. It drives me insane to know there is a butt nugget floating around, probably strategically placed just so I step in it. Furry bastards!
Comment by Shelly — October 30, 2007 @ 2:05 pm
Poor Shauna and Jason, but I need to ask the following question: “was this scarier than the Shining?”
Comment by Michelle — October 30, 2007 @ 2:08 pm
I always think I smell poop too, even when there is no (visible) poop. And then I always think that I am one of those people who, instead of smelling toast or whatever, smells POOP when having a stroke.
Comment by Tessie — October 30, 2007 @ 3:29 pm
good god that was funny
Comment by LoriD — October 30, 2007 @ 3:32 pm
Boy, I hate poop hunts. They involve flashlights so you don’t accidentally step on it and track around the house scenting it further. Yech. I’m so glad you didn’t sit or stand in it, or you would have been in the shower and washing clothes all night.
Of course it could be worse. I cannot count the number of cold, slimy, horked-up hairball/whatevers I’ve stepped in at 6 a.m. in the dark on the way to the kitchen to feed the little demons.
Comment by PixelPi — October 30, 2007 @ 4:22 pm
I’ve gone poop-hunting too. And strangely enough, the fantastical and triumphant end, with the finding of the poop, is NEVER as satisfying as, say, an Easter egg hunt.
Awesome post. Thanks for making me laugh out loud.
Comment by whimsy — October 31, 2007 @ 2:57 pm