I need your nose to help me find the dead thing

There's something dead in my kitchen. Although it might be in my dining room.
I'm not exactly certain what it is or where it is. I simply know it exists.
Okay, I'm not actually certain of that either, but I've got a strong suspicion that SOMETHING dead is hanging out in there.

And let me clarify, it's not like some dead spider on a dryer sheet rotting quietly (in fact, the spider has been removed- Demetrius pitched a tantrum and outright refused to eat at a table that also displayed the carcass of a large arachnid. After three weeks, he stubbornly threw it away for me since I still refused to touch it).
No, this dead thing is smelly.
I think.
Perhaps I should explain that i've been sick for about a week. I've been suffering from a curious strain of virus lovingly known as the pneumonic plague. My erstwhile colleagues contracted it while in England, and brought it back to me as a souvenir. They are always thoughtful and kind in their gift giving. They also brought me a smushed penny from the Tower Bridge, which I will cherish much longer than the plague.
Said plague reached a nearly lethal level late Monday night and by Tuesday morning I had been reduced to a quivering pile of mucus. My human remains were untouched as the week passed, excepting only the growing tower of tissues. Hercules, was in his finest form, and keenly slept by my side during the entire ordeal. Indeed, I believe he thought he was being rewarded for some previously unremarked deed. Kora however, grew ever more tense, which cumulated in my Saturday mornings 4am wakeup call, by which time, she had clearly, had enough.
I open my dreary eyes to see the form of an enormous St. Bernard crouched over me, her nose level with my own. I blink, once, then twice, and she begins to bark. The noise is enormous and only quenched when I drag my weary butt out of bed and take her on ridiculously overdue walk. It's animal warfare.

All of this is beside the point though. The dead thing.

Today I regained my appetite. And my smell. Actually, I can smell only one thing. And that thing is dead. And somewhere in the kitchen. As near as my nose can tell, it's dead center in the middle of the kitchen. Possibly on the floor. Which I've checked.
And double checked.
It's rancid.
That or else I'm still sick.
I can't tell. Which is maddening. I think I smell it. But I can't smell anything. Which makes me distrust my own nose.
All of which brings me to my desperate plea to several friends this evenings, ""I need your nose to help me find the dead thing. Please come"
No one has yet responded.
I'll be waiting.