Welcome aboard, allpfpc!
Not sure where your post is going, but hey.
Well shit, that really stinks.
"I’d rather Flush than Sniff."™
Sounds like a new game show “Flush or Sniff”
When my poop (or flatulence) smells worse than usual, I eat some yogurt, and that usually helps.
Fresh poop from a healthy person who hasn’t eaten anything especially malodorous isn’t terrible smelling. I could tell when my babies had stomach bugs by the odor, and could follow the spread of the bug through the family. High protein foods, especially fish, seem to increase the odor. Onions can add pungency, as can some spices. Some fruits can “perfume” your poop. I once had my husband ask if I was using a scented product after I took a dump. I had eaten a lot of Crandall currants, and a lot of the odor passed through me.
I consider my issue to be a cheap health check. 
Awww, sweet story. Domesticity. (Only partly a joke., as you say…husbands and wives watch out [smell out] for each other, and are alert to possible health changes.)
You might change your tune if you were a dung beetle. Shit is heaven-scent to them.
Googleitis :eek::
69 Causes of Stool Odor
P.T. Patty and the ladies
Thought their shit did not stink.
Fat-ass Johnson and the football team,
Picking fights at the skating rink.
In my book I wrote it down,
In my own poetic style.
In my book, it’s a crock story,
Memories in a pile.
But when I read it back again,
It wasn’t fit (a bunch of shit)
To wrap my garbage in,
In my book,
In my book.
– Dick Monda
Oh look at that puzzlegal; her poop smells like perfume:dubious: 
Actually, I have no sense of smell. I have never in my life smelled poop.
I bet it’s not that bad. 
Do you get the urge to roll it up and take it home to the kids?
Since the subject came up, there’s something that I’ve wondered about for a while.
When I’m on the “throne,” I cannot notice any bad smell from it. Now, considering the physics of smelling, I’m sure that it’s there–but somehow it just doesn’t register. Is that common?
Now farting–that’s a different story.
That’s just weird.
That does seem really weird.
This kind of loving intimacy among couples is a constant theme of Joyce, described richly here:
…and I pudd a name and wedlock boltoned round her the which to carry till her grave, my durdin dearly, Appia Lippia Pluviabilla, whiles I herr lifer amstell and been: I chained her chastemate to grippe fiuming snugglers, her chambrett I bestank so to spunish furiosos: I was her hochsized, her cleavunto, her everest, she was my annie, my lauralad, my pisoved…
In Finnegans Wake, our middle-aged husband HCE (“her hochsized, her cleavunto, her everest) gives a laundry list of what he does and has done for his wife (he is under trial). Here is another glimpse of how of he lives and loves enduringly (“lifer”) and continues to love (”* amstel"–he owns a bar, part of his life as well) ALP (Appia Lippia Pluviabilla) as part of a marriage, the wedding ring/lock bolted onto his “durdin dearly” (she is as beloved and down-to-Earth as the city known affectionately as Dear Dirty Dublin).
They share “chambrette” which he stinks up so furiously as delicately and as aristocratically as any who listed in Debrett’s Guide to Manners and Nobility and all those who observe its rules of etiquette. His pooping and its smell is a veritable epic poem, the great humanized-reboot of chivalric romance, Orlando Furioso.
Which has a plot point that Orlando loses his wits, which are trapped in a bottle (long story) and he regains his sanity by…smelling deeply…from that bottle.
*Orlando Furioso * by Ariosto, first appeared in 1516. Its first translation from the Italian to English was by John Harington in 1591 at the request of a real Queen, Elizabeth. Five years later Harington published a description of a new invention: the flush toilet.
It may be noted that one of the novel features of this chaste “mate” of the couple, is that it’s chained, referenced earlier in the Wake and, for that matter, a number of times in Ulysses; shit “fiumes” particularly if one is sick with a cold (“grippe”); and, if you care to think that way–and why not, considering Shem (his son, more or less) going on at length about the literary vitality of his essential midden-worthy nature–turds can be said to snuggle at the bottom of the bowl, and we do have a snuggly couple (HEC and ALP) in mind, the thought image isn’t so distant. We remember HCE earlier in the day taking care of business in the outdoor “lamatory.”
To be clear (ignoring the solecisms of the complete post), it should be “…Harington published a description of his new invention…”