It rather makes the issue of the stinky sofa a moot point. Now my entire apartment smells like the aftermath of a bombed out rice patty in 'Nam. Napalm and charred flesh.
I had to cover the sofa just so I would consent to sit and loll on it. I just had this vision of rubbing tar and nicotine into my skin every time I moved. Hopefully this doesn't look too tacky:
Before I covered the sofa, Mackie wouldn't sit on it. He kept sniffing around and then moving to another spot and sniffing some more. I guess he felt like I did about napping in the bottom of a wet ashtray. Now he loves it: more places to nap! Here he is deciding which of his toys to play with.