Okay, the photo here is NOT dooky but that lumpy dooky-looking labdanum I got a few months back, but it helps to illustrate the point of the post.
For days now I've been picking up the scent of, well, pooh. Wasn't the litter box, wasn't my shoes or the slips or the Uggs -- I just couldn't figure out why every so often I'd get this weird waft of doo-doo while sitting at the new computer desk. So I went on a hunt -- a poop hunt -- and found tucked under the sewing box next to the printer a pair of my son's "playin' shoes" with a minuscule trace of something he stepped in trapped in the tread. I mean, it was like dust it was so small, but it threw off a stench that my nose grabbed up nearly every time I sat at the computer to work. The shoes were hastily flung onto the porch for an outdoor scrubbing.
It really brought home the power of dooky that even in its tiniest measure it packs an olfactory wallop that'll make you tear your house apart to find it. And it reminded me that some NBP'ers use civet, the King of Crap Smells, in their perfumes, in ALL their perfumes, to stretch the skin time and to deepen the scent. Civet paste isn't pooh, per se, but it adds quite a bit of the pooh punch to the cat's -- ugh -- real pooh. Personally, I find it offensive. And I can pretty much pick it out of a perfume in its dry down.
Of course, I'm also the girl who likes hyracium and horse chestnut evulsions.