I bought my first grandmotherly item at a yard sale yesterday. It was an impulse item, a cute little baby reclining seat — $3. I get it in the car, and by the time I’ve driven the mile back to my house, the interior is beginning to smell a lot like skunk. Or no, wait — cat. It smells like fucking cat spray. Ugh. (Come to think of it, the young hipster mother I bought it from did look like a cat person.)
I get it home and figure, first of all, I’ll fill up the tub with hot water and detergent, see how that works. It didn’t. Although this is when I discover the battery compartment; apparently it’s got a vibrating seat, and I’ve just soaked the shit out of it. So I take the batteries out and spray the compartment with alcohol to dry it out.
Now I’m at work on the interwebs, and discover there’s all kinds of commercial items to clean cat spray. (I just don’t have any of them.) Someone suggests throwing it in the wash with baking soda and peroxide, and this seems to do the trick.
But this morning, I’m still getting a tiny whiff of cat pheromones. I sprayed the damn thing with Fabreze and now it’s sitting down in my hallway. If this doesn’t do the trick, it’s going to the thrift store. Maybe a cat person will buy it.