Rotten eggs smell bad. Rotten duck eggs are like vile grenades from the pits of hell.

by Veronica on February 26, 2015

in Animals, Gotta Laugh

I was in the kitchen when I heard Nathan shouting at the puppy.

“Come back here, drop it! Shit.”

The door flew open and Heidi skittered in on the lino, followed closely by Nathan, swearing. Heidi dropped something and darted back outside, Nathan hot on her tail, kicking whatever it was she dropped outside on his way.

It was about here that I realised things were going to be terrible.

“What is it?” I shouted after them, heading to the bathroom window – which incidentally is not frosted glass, which is why I have to check for stray farm workers before I strip naked and shower – to see what was up.

From there I could see Heidi licking the inside of an old, very very old, duck egg shell.

“She’s found a rotten egg, fucking hell.”

That’s when the smell hit me. As I started to retch, Nathan grabbed the hose, which I suppose we should be grateful was switched on at the time, and headed towards the egg shell. Heidi spotted the hose and tried to run inside.

“No you don’t!”

I got to the door faster than she did, attempting to slam it shut before she could bring her rotten egg covered face and paws back inside. It didn’t latch – an extension cord was running from the bathroom power point, out through the kitchen door, stopping me closing it properly.

Still retching, I held the door shut with my body as Heidi scrabbled against it.

Evelyn stood in front of me, seemingly unconcerned about the fog of stench surrounding us both as I retched into the rubbish bin. I held the door shut with one hand against Heidi’s increasingly frantic efforts to evade Nathan who wanted to hose her feet.

“Mummy, you ‘kay? You ‘kay Mummy?” Evelyn clasped her hands and looked worried about the noises coming out of my face. She patted me gently. “Dere dere. You be ‘kay now Mummy.”

This was when the smell hit Evelyn, who has a weak stomach and retches easily.

“NO! Don’t you vomit! Go into the lounge room. Go away from the smell.”

Retch. “Smells bad, Mummy. Smells AWFUL.” Retch. Retch.

I pushed her away, still holding the door shut.

Amy wandered in.

“Ugh, god. What’s that smell? Did Heidi vomit in the bathroom?”

I retched some more. The smell was getting worse. “No, she…” retch “… go and get me the eucalyptus spray, Amy. Right now.”

Amy shook her head. “I’m not going into the bathroom if Heidi vomited in there. Ugh, it smells rotten.”

Heidi stopped throwing herself at the door, deciding that running to try and lick the last remnants of egg out of the concrete was a good idea.

“Amy, DON’T let the dog in.” I left Amy to hold the door shut, heading for the bathroom and the safety of the eucalyptus room spray. Five seconds later, we could breathe again as I sprayed the kitchen with deodoriser.

“What was that?” Isaac asked, looking worried. “It smelled so bad Mummy.”

“Heidi broke a rotten egg, and ate it.”


Yuck indeed.

Gingerly I opened the door and a wave of stench rolled back in. I’d been busy all day and I was too exhausted to even contemplate bathing the dog – not after the last time I bathed a dog (Maisy) who had rolled in rotten egg and left me retching as the dog shampoo mixed with the smell of rotten egg marinating in warm water.

Heidi was sitting in the doorway, watching Nathan hose off the concrete, tongue lolling out, looking increasingly pleased with herself.

The situation was dire. Everytime she breathed the smell got worse, and from what I could see, her water bowl was empty. Making her drink water to wash away all the egg was a good idea, right?

The problem with making her drink water was that I needed to actually move into the smell funk to grab her bowl. So I did what all parents have done when faced with a rotten smell: I tried to make a child do it for me.

Nope. No luck. Evelyn had stopped retching and was watching me warily from the edge of the living room. Amy and Isaac would need more money than I was worth to do it. I was on my own.

A quick dart and I had her food and water bowl in hand, and thankfully, once I put down water she dipped her entire face in it, because Heidi is an idiot who likes to paddle in her water, unless it’s a bath and then why do we hate her so much, don’t we know water is evil?

I fed her to clean her mouth out even more, and then I locked her outside, because seriously, who finds a rotten egg and then tries to bring it inside to share. A loyal German Shepherd, that’s who.

Thank god for Nilodor, as I ran around dripping it everywhere, including on the middle of Heidi’s forehead, because seriously, why not.

The good news is, Nathan cleaned up the rest of the egg. The bad news is: the duck has an entire nest of rotten eggs somewhere and I don’t know where it is.

Heidi does though.

German Shepherd Pup, Four Months Old

john malpas February 27, 2015 at 1:29 pm

Powerful writing. Very evocative.
Brings back memories of our dogs bringing home dead birds.

Lisa Barton-Collins February 27, 2015 at 9:17 pm

Oh, yuk. Yuk yuk yuk. I know that smell 🙁

Alison February 28, 2015 at 12:55 am

Good times – Sorry for chuckling…

GoodThingsSmall March 3, 2015 at 4:21 pm

Oh yuck! Haha this made me laugh though – there is something really funny about retching (other than when it is yourself).

river March 9, 2015 at 1:33 pm

Oh dear! You may need to lock up Heidi and send out a search party to find those eggs.

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