Before I had my lunch an hour or so ago, I took a plastic bag brimming with garbage out of the bin in the kitchen, tied it tightly, and put it by the front door, so that I could take it to the garbage disposal containers not far from my house the next time I go out. As I was sipping wine and puffing at a cigar after my meal, I started hearing street cats meowing just outside my door. Thinking that something funny must be going on out there, I went to the front door and opened it. All the cats in the neighborhood were assembled right in front of me. They started meowing in unison as soon as they saw me. Only then I realized that it was the garbage bag by the door that attracted them in numbers. To my surprise, the slit under the door was wide enough for them to sniff a few slim morsels that remain there. Now, that is a sense of smell.

Addendum (November 29, 2017)

Concerning street cats in my neighborhood, nothing much has changed in the last nine years. I just opened the front door holding a plastic bag brimming with garbage in my hand, and the cats dashed toward me in numbers. There were at least twenty of them, I reckon. On my way to the garbage disposal containers down the street, many of them meowed imploringly as they trotted by my side. This time around, a few of them growled menacingly at each other, as well. As ever, this is the time of the year when there are hardly any tourists around. And street cats thrive on tourism, as it were. They get a morsel here and a morsel there throughout the season, and especially during the summer months. The winter is the pits, though. Judging by the growling, cats would go at each other’s throats for a stray morsel of food. Soon enough, the smallest among them will starve to death. If tourists only knew that feeding street cats just for fun was as cruel as slaughtering them on the spot!