For the last few weeks, CJ and I have been glued to the TV, watching the Casey Anthony trial in Orlando. We are trying to give advice by shouting. Hasn’t worked. She is accused of murdering her little kid, stowing her body in the car trunk, and eventually dumping the body in the woods. The “smell of death” has been one of the most controversial issues.
The state’s experts and Casey’s own parents have described a distinctive odor of decomposing flesh in and around her car. The scientists even collected it and canned it. So far no one has been brave enough to open this can of stink. The defense witnesses have not been able to detect a single whiff of death from the car.
Maybe smells are entirely subjective, and both sides are right. If you have ever been trapped in an elevator with a perfumed lady, a smoker, or one of the great unwashed, did you wonder if only you noticed? Wonder if they thought they smelled sexy or manly? Wonder if they thought you smelled funny?
I heard that rubbing your dog down with dryer sheets would make him less afraid of thunder, by reducing the static electricity. Romeo turns into a shaking, whining mess when a storm is still way off, so he got the magic rubdown. It did make him smell more like Bounce than dead squirrel when he threw his shaking, whining self into our bed during the night. This morning he found the dead squirrel again, first thing. Of course, he rolled in it to get the Bounce smell off. He and I have a subjective difference of opinion about good and bad smells.
If you are a wearer of perfume, you may just think you smell good. Don’t ever look up the ingredients. Ambergris is a favorite, along with substances found in the musk glands of the civet cat. Ambergris, I still remember from junior high biology, is found in the poop and vomit of whales. If you’re wearing this stuff, don’t get on my elevator.
