Michael Pearce

Opening a can of disaster

One tiny hole in a can of air freshner from a puppy’s teeth can lead to a big mess.
One tiny hole in a can of air freshner from a puppy’s teeth can lead to a big mess. The Wichita Eagle

If, by chance, you ever walk in to your house and you’re about knocked over by a smell similar to the insides of a buck a bottle perfume factory, it probably means you left the bathroom door open all day.

Yes, the one your spouse reminded you to close that very morning, and has done so repeatedly.

And if you’re ever playing a board game, and get a question like, “What can puncture the sides of a big metal can of air freshener?”, you can answer-

“The teeth of a Labrador retriever puppy!” and know that you are correct.

Trust me on that. My sense of smell still hasn’t recovered from when I came home one afternoon last week.

Of course it took me a few seconds to realize just what had happened, though instantly I figured Cade, a.k.a. “The Tasmanian Puppy” was involved.

The punctured can on the love seat showed he’d grabbed the can from the master bathroom and brought it into the living room to play. Seriously, this dog has never seen anything it didn’t immediately recognize as instant party. If people were so easy to entertain and fun loving Kathy, a psychologist, would be unemployed.

As well as the over-bearing smell, the amount of liquid that can had held was downright shocking. And there it was, spewed out a tiny hole and on to the back of our love seat.

But fortunately the love seat was leather and not cloth, which would have absorbed the liquid scent and had our house smelling of “Hawaiian Aloha” for too many months to come.

Instead, a half of a roll of paper towels later I had the mess pretty well sponged and wiped up. Cade, of course, helped by shredding and eating parts of a few of the paper towels when I wasn’t looking. Maybe he wanted to have the best smelling piles of poo on the block, I don’t know.

I certainly learned a lesson the hard way, but Kathy and I both know it’s only a matter of time before I leave the door open again.

So I guess the next time I go shopping, I have to find some spray that smells better than ol’ “Hawaiian Aloha.”

I’m also going to have to be doubly sure I keep the doors to the shed where I store my hunting gear closed and locked. If Cade would happen to find a can of my buck in rut spray, and make a repeat performance of a puncture in the living room, the divorce could be almost as messy as the furniture...assuming I would survive the smell when I walked in to the house.