Can't You Smell That Smell?
My husband Michael is an avid hockey enthusiast. When he's not playing he is probably watching a game and rooting for the Red Wings. He has played for various leagues throughout our marriage (at all hours of the night). I remember visiting Maple Leaf Gardens during our honeymoon.
I've learned that hockey gear can stink to high heaven and still be acceptable to those who wear it. One particular night, Mike opened his hockey bag to dress for the game and found that all his equipment had a clean, minty fresh fragrance. I was later told that this is not good in a checking league where everyone is trying to be tougher than the next guy. But, Mike just smiled to himself and thought 'Gee, what a wonderful wife I have. She works so hard to keep my stuff clean.'
As the game went on everyone had broken a good sweat, Mike's pleasant, fresh aroma, had soured somewhat. By the end of the second period, no one sat next to him on the bench, and Mike started to "smell a rat".
What he didn't know was that our new little kitten (named Basil) was older than we had thought, and it was a male. As many of you know once a male kitten matures they like to 'mark' their territory with their newly found scent glands. Apparently, our little hero thought that Mike's open hockey bag in the basement, particularly the helmet, was his territory.
When I found Basil in the bag and the resulting mess, I freaked out. I started washing all of his hockey equipment, shin pads, shoulder pads, hockey pants, helment and the bag in our laundry tub with soap and bleach. After an hour of soaking and scrubbing, a distinct and horrific odor was still undeniable. I then dumped a half bottle of Pine-sol in the washer along with all his gear, including his helmet. After a full cycle with hot water, to make certain I had erased all traces of the incident, I ran it though again with the second half of the Pine-sol bottle. I felt sure that the whole thing would blow over.
By the third period of his game, the sweat had broken through the deodorizers and had re-activated nature's own powerful scent. Our kitten had won. No one cared about the game. Mike couldn't see well enough to play. His eyes were burning and watering from the bleach, deodorizers and cat urine. The sweat running from his head down his face was leaving an evil chemical trail. He left for the showers as soon as possible, and the rest of the team gave him plenty of space... Even the referee skated around him that night.
P.S.: Santa brought Mike some new gear for Christmas to save further embarrassment.
(Above event is as I remember it - Barbara Vaillancourt)