It is a Good Thing Smell-A-Vision Isn't Real...

The boy made it home today and spent the first part of the evening chilled on his mat in our front room. He drank, ate a bit and took his pain med with nary a peep, eventually headbutting, purring and licking my hand in response to stroking.

Our mutual happiness was only slightly dimmed when, two hours later, I attempted to move his carrier and noticed the distinct aroma of L'Aire du Chat, which has nothing in common with a similarly named fragrance from Nina Ricci.

Chalking this up to nervousness at being hospitalized, anesthetized, surgically altered due to a molar removal and then transported in a car by someone not his, I set about washing his carrier mat, my third small load of laundry today. The odor, however, remained. Luckily, my strong constitution prevailed

At this point, I knew the carrier needed scrubbing and took a minute to gather towels, Nature's Miracle, and assorted thoughts. Large enough for a medium sized standing dog, this thing was not going to fit into the bathroom sink. I  opted for the kitchen, clearing  the counter of everything while leaving room for the flexible hose so that all I had to do was angle its bottom and use a scrubber which could then be thrown away.

Things went well until the hose slipped from my hand, showering me and le adoring chat. Those of you familiar with cats know that short of drinking it, they hate water, especially when sprayed upon them. Mine made a break for the farthest flung hiding spot he could find in our apartment, leaving me to sop up the kitchen floor, dry out the bottom of his carrier and re-assemble it, all while waiting for the washing cycle to end so that his mat could be dried.

You might think that putting his palace to rights would be quick. If so, I won't tell you about the two hours it actually took me, wet, smelly and .peeved. The door fell in, so the top and bottom had to be loosened enough to allow it to stand in the plastic grooves intended to allow it to swing open and shut. Then, there was a small plastic lock that fell from its housing and though  nothing was broken or missing and I could see how it was supposed to fit, no  try as I might, it would not work

Undaunted by this trial to my limited fine motor skills, I took a breath, let loose a string of curses and tried one last time, finally finding just the right groove to lock the piece in place. Good thing you cannot see my self-satisfied smirk. That vaguely lingering smell? It is now ,me and comes from carrying his malodorous laundry on my lap to the washer. Happily, the second shower of the day will be in the bathroom, as it should be.

Cheers!