Saturday, September 17, 2011

Clean-up On Aisle Seven

Turned out to be a painter, not a moose
I was picking blueberries in my garden the other day and trying to stay out of the way of the painters when an unmistakable odor-finger pointed my way. "Smells like something died around here," I said, which made all the painters point at each other in accusation. I get that. I don't know how it is in the white-collar world, but back in the post office we always maintained a selection of people who could be counted on to make dramatic olfactory statements.

"No, I mean it smells like something really died around here," I said. "Something big." A moose, maybe. I poked around a little, more curious than eager. Dave came along and put in a better effort, snooting around under the larger shrubs. Nothing.

Later in the day I passed by a different corner of the yard and suddenly knew, with every appalled cell in my body, that I was within three feet of the item. My nose grew eyes and went blind. My nose sprouted legs and chewed one off. I crouched down and gave the radius a cursory glance and fetched Dave. He waded into the shrubbery and swept things aside with a big stick, then stopped and leaned over.

"Did you find it?"

Dave made an unidentifiable sound, all vowels and revulsion. "I'm going to need a flat shovel, a garbage bag, and a bucket," he said.

"What kind of bucket?"

The bucket was for his personal use, and a five-gallon one, he thought, should about do it.

"So what is it?"

Raccoon or possum is always a possibility, but domestic cat also seemed likely. We're overblessed with them here, courtesy most of our fine neighbors. Frankly, I'd be okay with the idea of having one fewer. I love cats, but in their place--that place being inside, stalking the wily moth, or between my lap and a good book. One of my neighbors was missing a cat and asked if I'd seen her just the other day. I hadn't. I listened to the description, but it didn't sound familiar. All of those subsidized killing machines look the same to me with a warbler stuffed in their front ends. I said I'd keep an eye out and refrained from my outdoor-cat rant. I'm at the age where it would be too easy to become the neighborhood crank, and you never know when you're going to need an egg.

"I don't know." Dave motioned me into the bushes and held some branches away with a stick. We both bent over to get closer. Well! It was a wallet. A giant tailed wallet with a paste of maggots on top. The only sound was the low hum of maggot nummy-noises and the gentle plink of our eyebrows falling out. Just before we ran for the bucket, we caught a glimpse of a flat grey tabby head on one end of the wallet. I contemplated calling up my neighbor.

Found a cat. What did your cat look like again? Oh. Okay then. No, this one is about an inch high all over, semi-liquid, with one fuzzy eyeball and a maggot crust. I'll keep looking.


In humans, the stages between Dust and Dust are adolescence, heavy drinking, credit card debt, denial, anger, bargaining, heavy drinking, acceptance, death, bloat, putrefaction, and compost. This cat was in the putrefaction stage, characterized by the release of various chemicals that certain animals that I do not wish to be reincarnated as find attractive. It's all part of a process that begins at the moment of death when one's cells, which one had been propping up more or less continuously while alive, begin to slump and stagger. Bacteria are key instigators, and the odors of cadaverine and putrescine are caused by their excretions. That's what the stink of death is: bacteria farts. True, it doesn't seem possible that bacteria could do all that, what with their butts being so very tiny and all, but there are a lot of them. If enough folks get together, they can raise quite a stink. Like at the post office the day someone brought in the elk jerky. Or the Tea Party: very similar deal.

Then the flies come in and have themselves a time and lay eggs in the dead thing so their children won't go hungry. They wouldn't have to do this if they had breasts, but they don't. The maggots hatch right on top of their own breakfast, and they look enthusiastic. These were partying like there was no tomorrow, and I can't blame them. They don't have much to look forward to as adult flies: eat shit and die.

Our hero
It's all very interesting, but Dave and I backed away from it. Dave was fresh off the revelation that he could pay someone else to do stuff, and he went off to search for a critter gitter. That's when the head painter guy popped up and said he'd be happy to scoop it for us. The head painter guy is the same one who strapped himself to our steeply sloping tower roof to paint our cupola. He's a cheerful fellow. He said it wasn't dangerous at all once his skin had baked onto the roof shingles. The boy ain't right. So, smiling through his t-shirt, he bagged up the critter and deposited it in our garbage can, due to be picked up the following morning. It didn't cost us a thing.

If you don't count the fifty-dollar tip for the garbage man.

39 comments:

  1. How well I know that smell. Many years ago when we were living on a farm and dependent on tank water, something fell through the tank lid, drowned and decomposed. So we had to empty all our water onto the ground, scrub the tank, and buy lots and lots more water. Lots because I ran a tank load through the taps to clean the lines. Puke retch vomit. I remember it well.
    And I seem to be first cab off the rank again. I must have ESP for when one of your delightful posts is about to pop up.

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  2. "...or between my lap and a good book." Only too true. And do the adult flies eat shit and die or eat, shit and die...hmmm, I think it could go either way.

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  3. You may need a new garbage can, too. Such a pong tends to saturate its container.

    Me, I'd be worrying about what killed the cat.

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  4. Do you and Dave have a bet going on how many Way-To-Go comments you get on the gross-out posts? Because I'd like a piece of that, actually. It's anomalous...some kind of black magic you weave, perhaps...something a little off but oddly compelling. Two years ago, if you'd asked me if I'd like to read a blog post about putrefying cat cadavers, I'd have looked at you like you were...um, a putrefying cat cadaver. Now, there seems to be no level of yuck I won't gobble up and applaud you for.

    Way to go!

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  5. How can I be grinning over the death of a poor little cat? But then again, what your smiling painter guy did was above and beyond. Love the description of what your nose can do! :-)

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  6. Really that cat would have done all a better job in the dirt to finish the compost process and enrich the soil. I have a cranky lady speech about keeping things out of the landfill and about putting organic matter back in the soil where it does some good. BUT it is time for cranky to move on to the next blog... See ya later....

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  7. Our cat deposited a half dead mouse in the living room. The mouse crept under the hearth of the fireplace and died. My resident 'Hero' refused to destroy the slate hearth in order to remove the mouse. The odor from a wee mouse lasts approximately 6 weeks... I can't imagine how long a cat would smell!

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  8. Roxie says
    I am a cat person. I keep them inside because I love them. I would definitely be ranting at your neighbor.

    "My nose grew legs and chewed one off." This reminds me of when Tony Bourdain ate an iguana taco and said, "It made me want to rip my eyeballs out and dunk my head in a bucket of lye." Nothing succeeds like excess, and hyperbole is a rare art. Bravo!

    Would your painter object if you shared his name and number? He seems to be JUST the kind of guy I need to have on speed-dial.

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  9. All kinds of things turn up in one's back yard. Some desirable; some not. You did a good job of handling your situation. Well done!

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  10. The Circle of Life sounded so much prettier in the song...

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  11. I have never seen a more poetic description of a rotting corpse. Congratulations.

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  12. Living in the country with dogs and cats who bring various critters by, and leave them to bake in the sun, I know your problem. lol...

    Hey murrs, would you mind changing your settings to allow the full post in readers. I can't always comment, but always want to read you, and your blog takes forever for me to download. :)

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  13. Sorry about the cat. Poor kitty!
    And I wish my husband would learn the "That's what money is for" philosophy. He might live longer.

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  14. It's amazing how you can make such a stinky subject so much fun!

    It probably was anything but a pleasant experience, and yet you've got me smiling and giggling! :p

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  15. I think $50 is cheap to get rid of such a decomposed rancid cat. It was a moment you will always remember.

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  16. Would your painter be interested in setting up a franchise in nor'east Tennyssee? There's something un-pretty going on in the crawlspace under my house....

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  17. I don't like that part of death. Can we skip right over it and get to the heaven part?

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  18. Nance, your last sentence there--what writer wouldn't live for that? "No level of yuck" you wouldn't gobble up...sounds like a challenge. Hmm.

    Yes, our painters were really terrific all around. In spite of the salamander maiming.

    Now, will somebody help me with Sherry Peyton's request? I do know how to change the settings, but I'm unclear with the following stuff. I put the feed on a "short post" setting for the email notifications, because I wanted people to click on the site (since I get statistics off that, in case a publisher or agent ever wants to know). I don't actually know what sort of feed I have set for readers--I do have one?--and if putting in the full post would mean I don't get a "hit" for being visited. If anyone out there is up to speed on these issues, please shoot me an email or something. I think my address is up there in the profile somewhere.

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  19. The anon cranky lady was not me. But could have been.Burial would have been good.(If the nose cant cope with burial, dumping a sack of soil on top works!)
    And I've also had a similar experience with a water tank, as mentioned by Elephants Child. But we were lucky in that we had 3 tanks and could isolate the bad one.It was expensively horrible.In a bloody drought, to boot!

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  20. At first, I thought this was going to be a post about your putrid plant. Sorry it turned out to be the neighbor's cat! Another amazing post. Elaine

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  21. Don't lose the contact information on the painter. You never know when you might need him again.

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  22. Here's what happens when you read a couple of posts at the same sitting.....I hear about lap hooters and flies that don't have breasts. A theme, perchance?

    Love, love love the lap hooters, btw.

    Thanks for such wonderfully descriptive posts of two very different, but somehow eerily related subjects.

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  23. Murr, I love you! I'm a new reader. Where, or where have I been all this time???

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  24. Love you back, Syn! And dinahmow + anonymous crankster, let me have it. I agree. I told Dave we should just let it fester and it would turn into cardboard in a matter of days, and he agreed and put the phone book away. But when the painter came by with his big smile, well...I'm a sucker for a guy in a white outfit I guess.

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  25. Next time dump a bunch of lime on it. Our workers at our Mexico house did that to a dog that died on our property. They hauled it just off a bit to the edge of an arroyo in front of our place and dumped a bag of lime on it. No smell and it all disappeared in a matter of weeks.

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  26. Wonderful post. A vulture landed in my yard the other day and pulled a dead rabbit out of a bush and snacked on it. Thank you, nature. Now I need to pull up the bush that produces dead rabbits

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  27. If we can get through death like this while chortling, I guess we can get through life. But I can't get through this post without making noise where the turtles are/were? sleeping.

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  28. I now have my epitaph thanks to you, Murr: The stink of death: bacteria farts.

    Unfortch, (and please cranky-pants readers...don't lecture) I am not being composted, per se, and therefore will not have the real estate for such a monument of eloquence. I am, however, going to be recycled. Does that count?

    Admittedly, it is all for the best. If I were interred, then it would be too hard for me to choose between the previous and the latter, "adult flies: eat shit and die."

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  29. I wouldn't mind my body being tossed out into a field to be snacked upon by critters. Especially turkey hawks. I've always wanted to be able to fly and that seems like as good a way as any.

    I've got to get my (size 4) ass up to Oregon and throw back some beers with you.

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  30. Once you smell that odor of death you will always recognize it. The cat may not have been killed by anything. When it is their time, they tend to go off to die, usually hiding somewhere. I had a cat once climb between the back of a shed in our backyard and a fence it was close to. Some of my cats were indoor/outdoor, never leaving our backyard.

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  31. I'm not a cat person but we've always had them, because of the kids.. I have experienced that smell, there is nothing like it, ours was under the pool deck, probably poisoned by a cranky MEAN neighbor. It was not as decomposed as your find, but it fell apart like dust when thehusband shoveled her up. Sorry...

    Old or sick cats often go outside to die, they know it's their time..isn't that sad? They die all alone...

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  32. Love the "Or the Tea Party" that you slid between the maggots and the trash can.

    I don't know how to edit your blog settings but I do know that if you email out your entire column then you will lose hits on your page, unless the person reading it decides to come here anyhow. (P.S., most will not.) No, they need some incentive to read it all... and your first few lines will do it if the knowledge that it's a Murritorial isn't sufficient.

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  33. I could talk to some of my fellow bald guys down at the strip club to see if they need a new toupee

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  34. "Murr Brewster's Blog - Now With Added ICK!"

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  35. "Then the flies come in and have themselves a time and lay eggs in the dead thing so their children won't go hungry. They wouldn't have to do this if they had breasts, but they don't."

    The world is a better place because of this. There is enough weirdness in the world without fly breasts.

    Cowango is correct -- lime will all but eliminate the odor of decay. Covering the carcass in compost also reduces odor and hastens decomposition.

    Your post reminds me of the time I found a maggot-infested squirrel carcass near my compost pile, probably killed by a neighborhood cat. At first, I was revolted, but I reminded myself that this too is part of nature. Nature, we must remember, is not only trees and rain but also maggots and disintegration.

    While hiking in wetlands, I've discovered more than a few dead things: a perfectly preserved blue heron skeleton, dead baby turtles, the bones of a possom near a fox's den, and so forth. There is something sorrowful and beautiful about finding such things -- they are reminders not only of death but how magnificent these creatures must have been in life.

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  36. Yes, Ahab. Although the neighborhood cat is an introduced part of nature, and doesn't belong. Dang, I cranked out again!

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  37. That was nice of the painter guy, but if he offers you some jerky, I'd refuse it if I were you.

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