mr. stinkopotomous

Friday night in the Zeli household. . .

The end of a busy school/work week. . .

Time to relax. . . maybe order pizza (not tonight, we had chicken scampi). . . . play Legos. . . maybe read. . . watch Clone Wars at 9 pm. . .

But not tonight.

Tonight we gave Maxie a bath. Why? He was playing outside. Maybe the second to last out for the night pee break.

And when I heard Sam say Houston, we have a problem. I figured he ran down the street after a dog. Ran up in the woods to play with a cat.

Oh, he was playing with a cat, all right.

A polecat.

And the smell. Oh my gosh the smell. Hijack my senses, turn my lungs inside out. . . Dizzy. . . Nauseous. Dying.

The whole house smells. I can feel it in my skin. In my hair.

And it won't go away.

Candles. Fresh air. Lysol.

We spent our Friday evening giving Max a bath. Lathered over and over. . . And his head still smells.

And, poor him. He felt so bad. Lowered head. Baby doll eyes: big and shiny. . . Enough to make you feel sorry for him. . . almost. . . Until you smelled the smell.