The Case of the Basement Poop
One of our neighbors in the previous apartment was having a birthday party. As he got back upstairs from collecting party stuff a.k.a. bottles of alcohol from his basement locker, he stopped by and knocked on our door. He wanted to tell H that someone had taken a dump in the common area of the basement, where the bicycles usually are. H was aghast. “What is happening in this building!” he said. In context, there were a couple of mildly strange things going on in our apartment building at the time (as usual, I can’t remember the other things). This new development was in addition to those other series of weird happenings.
Anyway, he left and H came inside and looped me in. After a brief discussion of shock and disbelief, H and I realized the source of this mysterious poop. We had been down to the basement to get some stuff earlier that afternoon, and we had gone with Sophie for the first time. She had gone around exploring, or so we had thought. We just hadn’t known the extent of this exploration. We looked at Sophie, who seemed blissfully unaware and completely nonchalant, curled up on the couch.
After a hearty laugh, H went to clean up after her and we swore that we would keep her dirty secret safe (from the neighbors)! Shhh!