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Welcome To The Bitchery

So the last couple weeks were almost what one could qualify as "good." Mooch has been staying in his room, with only the occasional foray for food. We've learned to keep the good stuff in the third floor kitchen where he can't get to it. And I've learned to close the doors to the living room when I'm hanging out in there because when the doors are closed he doesn't poke his head in. As a result I've seen him twice in about three weeks. It's been nice. Until late last week.

I don't know if Mooch has decided he's too old for bath time or if he's having some kind of stomach problems, but he's now radiating a foul-smelling nastiness you can't even imagine. When he walked past me this morning there were cartoon stench lines following in his wake like smelly, smelly dolphins. And it lingers as well. Every time he steps out into the hall it becomes a dead zone for the next 10 minutes. I want to fill a pressure washer with Febreeze and spray down the entire floor, and Mooch.


Backstory, for those who missed it.

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