That smell...
I am writing this from my sofa, with every window and door open in the hope that by the time the husband returns from work the offensive all pervading smell might have subsided a little.
I suppose that you want all the details?
It's Reg's fault (it's always Reg's fault). Coming home from the usual family breakfast, I stopped at the local pet shop for some advice on Reg's teeth. You see, unlike Percy whose teeth could feature in a Colgate commercial, Reg's are less wholesome. Having risked life, limb and digits trying to clean his teeth with a bit of textured rubber on the end of my finger, I then tried dental cleaning sticks which he sucked up like a Dyson, preferring to skip the obligatory chewing needed to clean the blooming teeth.
The lady in the pet shop was extremely helpful, suggesting that chewing was the way forward, and she pointed me to the part of the pet shop I hate. Over the past two years, this area has got more and more grotesque with various animal body parts lining the shelves. This started with pigs' ears but the the canine buffet now extends to turkey feet and antlers. But as I looked at this lot, she told me to take a look at the filled hooves.
The saving grace was that they were wrapped in plastic, and I had assumed that if they were filled, then they had been emptied and cleaned before being re-filled with goodness knows what. I bought two, and getting home, I sent the dogs into the garden with them.
Naturally, once the rain started earlier, they were in the lounge, hooves in tow, and very slowly, I became aware of the dreadful smell. If I said that it was similar to the bottom of a guinea pig cage (that would be a guinea pig who'd died in situ a week previously) if wouldn't even come close.
The hooves are now history, but the smell remains. I have fragranced candles in every room, and the air freshener has been liberally sprayed willy-nilly.
The husband is due home soon. I'm not sure which he will hate more.
The Eau de Hoof or the overpowering floral pong...
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