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I was taken aback by the slight hint of cat urine in Mrs. Eels basement but honored at the same time. I took baby steps as I followed her down the stairs into his place where she would come and lurk at her beautiful things. The stairs didn’t creek or make any noise as old staircases would and they were clearly rotten or being eaten by the rats of my assumption. I don’t think the smell bothered Mrs. Eels because she never said ‘excuse the smell my dear.’ She never said it out of all the times she allowed me to be in the magical place of beautiful things. Mrs. Eels pulled a string that clicked