So I've spent the last week or so playing "what's that smell?" up in our bedroom. It was definitely an organic odor. That much I knew. But the part that was making me nuts was that I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. While the smell was strong (and getting worse), its source was elusive.
When it started to waft downstairs as well, it finally dawned on me to go sniff the heating vent. Which turned out to be both a stroke of genius and an assault to the senses.
You really don't want a description. Let's just say that Death Himself had to be lingering in our ductwork with an over cooked bowl of broccoli.
Scott, bless him, took matters into his hands and discovered that our heater has some magnetic pull on the local mousies. Another pointed stick was fashioned, the ex-rodent was removed and Barney, like Mooch before him, sat around looking innocent. I swear to you that I caught him whistling tunelessly and looking at his watch.
It's nice to know that our late, great mouser was not alone in this particular behavior of slapping mice down the heating vents. And it is also nice to know that the new cat can also get the job done, if not with as much horrifying panache as the previous cat. What would be even nicer is if the mice would take the hint and go elsewhere. Or, at least, stop using the furnace as their own personal pyre.