Part I: Just One of the Cats
Maybe I'm weird, but I like skunks. They're beautiful animals. They don't smell that bad, from a distance. And, I even got to know one once. She had a lovely personality. You see, my wife was herding cats at the time. That is to say, she was managing a litter of ferals that wandered into our territory. She made this particular bunch of kittens comfortable in our garage by leaving the door open just enough for them to wander in and out. Inside they found a warm place to sleep, along with fresh food and water every day.
So, of course, the kittens came to think of our garage as home. And I came to think of the whole situation as normal. I tried not to get too involved, but every now and then I would wander out to survey the kitty activity. I towered above them as they fed from a single large bowl, and I noticed their distinctive colors and patterns. One day I noticed an especially distinctive pattern: One of the 'kittens' was black, with two white stripes that ran from the top of its head to the tip of its bushy tail.
Maybe I'm weird, but I like skunks. They're beautiful animals. They don't smell that bad, from a distance. And, I even got to know one once. She had a lovely personality. You see, my wife was herding cats at the time. That is to say, she was managing a litter of ferals that wandered into our territory. She made this particular bunch of kittens comfortable in our garage by leaving the door open just enough for them to wander in and out. Inside they found a warm place to sleep, along with fresh food and water every day.
So, of course, the kittens came to think of our garage as home. And I came to think of the whole situation as normal. I tried not to get too involved, but every now and then I would wander out to survey the kitty activity. I towered above them as they fed from a single large bowl, and I noticed their distinctive colors and patterns. One day I noticed an especially distinctive pattern: One of the 'kittens' was black, with two white stripes that ran from the top of its head to the tip of its bushy tail.
I don't have a photo of that particular array of kittens and skunk, but the image at right which I found on the Internet, can give an idea. It was obviously a skunk right there in the midst of the felines, wolfing down the groceries as if it belonged there. Of course, that raises the question of who belongs and who doesn't, but I'm not one to argue with a skunk. However, this skunk didn't seem the least bit alarmed about my presence, and so I didn't feel threatened by her either.
This continued for days. The kittens flourished, as did the skunk. They were all happy together, and I swear that skunk thought it was just one of the litter. And, no, it didn't smell bad. It was muskier than the cats and I have no doubt that its spray would have been unpleasant, but it never threatened to spray. The skunk always kept its tail down, and minded its own business. We were able to handle the kittens, but the skunk ... Well, we really didn't try that hard.
This continued for days. The kittens flourished, as did the skunk. They were all happy together, and I swear that skunk thought it was just one of the litter. And, no, it didn't smell bad. It was muskier than the cats and I have no doubt that its spray would have been unpleasant, but it never threatened to spray. The skunk always kept its tail down, and minded its own business. We were able to handle the kittens, but the skunk ... Well, we really didn't try that hard.
Anyway, everyone grew and the day came when I knew we couldn't have a skunk hanging out in our garage anymore. So, I set a safe trap and determined to catch and release the polecat into a more natural environment. After trapping and releasing several of the wrong species, I finally had the skunk inside the cage. But, at that point I faced a dilemma: How was I going to carry the cage without frightening the skunk. Yes, I cared about the skunk's feelings but I mainly didn't want to get sprayed. While I scratched my head over how to handle the caged rodent, I could see that she had an entirely different perspective. She was not frightened at all. She was confused.
Seeing that confusion on her face left me completely befuddled. I felt that she was thinking: "Why, Daddy? Why did you put me in a cage?" (Daddy?) It made me sad. She thought she was part of the family. She had grown up in our garage, with the kittens, and thought she belonged. I had to think about it, but the only possible conclusion was that she belonged in the wild. So, I threw a blanket over the cage and carried her off to a nearby preserve where I assume she met other skunks and lived happily ever after.
Part II: Take One Small Dog. Add Tomato Sauce.
Our neurotic little dachshund was extremely protective of our backyard. You already know where this is going, don't you? Okay, so I'll spare you the details of an event I really didn't witness. I was at a bar with friends, enjoying some after-work suds and conversation.
For background on this story, you should know we had two dogs. The older female, a slightly overweight red, was usually the point dog in a skirmish. Her younger black-and-tan brother was content to hold back and provide sound effects. Another bit of background information is that I had lingered a bit later than unsual at the pub and might have been a beer past my limit.
Seeing that confusion on her face left me completely befuddled. I felt that she was thinking: "Why, Daddy? Why did you put me in a cage?" (Daddy?) It made me sad. She thought she was part of the family. She had grown up in our garage, with the kittens, and thought she belonged. I had to think about it, but the only possible conclusion was that she belonged in the wild. So, I threw a blanket over the cage and carried her off to a nearby preserve where I assume she met other skunks and lived happily ever after.
Part II: Take One Small Dog. Add Tomato Sauce.
Our neurotic little dachshund was extremely protective of our backyard. You already know where this is going, don't you? Okay, so I'll spare you the details of an event I really didn't witness. I was at a bar with friends, enjoying some after-work suds and conversation.
For background on this story, you should know we had two dogs. The older female, a slightly overweight red, was usually the point dog in a skirmish. Her younger black-and-tan brother was content to hold back and provide sound effects. Another bit of background information is that I had lingered a bit later than unsual at the pub and might have been a beer past my limit.
Photo at left provided in case you've forgotten what a skunk looks like. They're kinda cute, aren't they? And from this angle you probably don't have much to fear.
This is the view you never want to see of a skunk:
This is the view our red female dachy apparently was treated to. So, as I was yukking it up with my buds, I got the phone call. My wife was quite distressed, and I had quite the wrong reaction. At that particular moment, it sounded like the funniest thing I had ever heard. I had to immediately share the details with my friends, as my frantic wife tried to regain my attention to her pleas for help. Finally, I settled down and listened, between chortles, giggles and the occasional howl.
My sensible Dutch friend recognized that I was perhaps not responding appropriately, so he got on the phone and offered advice: Tomato sauce. Bathe the dog in tomato sauce. Then, of course, my wife expected me to leave my merry friends immediately to go purchase and deliver said sauce. That would seem appropriate, but for whatever reason I was not so inclined at that moment. I told her to just leave the dog outside and I would be home a little later to deal with it.
Well, for whatever reason my wife was not inclined to wait, so when I finally straggled home, I found her in the backyard with a very sad looking dog in a wheelbarrow of tomato sauce, being scrubbed down by woman who looked a lot like my wife, except a lot angrier. Yes, if daggers could really fly out of eyes, that would have happened, and I would have been dead.
To wrap this story up, I just want to tell you that it takes weeks for the skunk smell to completely go out of a dog. And it takes every bit as long for it to go out of a woman. My wife was actually asked to not go to her office for a few days. I, on the other hand, spent a few days in the dog house, as you might imagine ... not for anything that I had done, but for what I didn't do.
My sensible Dutch friend recognized that I was perhaps not responding appropriately, so he got on the phone and offered advice: Tomato sauce. Bathe the dog in tomato sauce. Then, of course, my wife expected me to leave my merry friends immediately to go purchase and deliver said sauce. That would seem appropriate, but for whatever reason I was not so inclined at that moment. I told her to just leave the dog outside and I would be home a little later to deal with it.
Well, for whatever reason my wife was not inclined to wait, so when I finally straggled home, I found her in the backyard with a very sad looking dog in a wheelbarrow of tomato sauce, being scrubbed down by woman who looked a lot like my wife, except a lot angrier. Yes, if daggers could really fly out of eyes, that would have happened, and I would have been dead.
To wrap this story up, I just want to tell you that it takes weeks for the skunk smell to completely go out of a dog. And it takes every bit as long for it to go out of a woman. My wife was actually asked to not go to her office for a few days. I, on the other hand, spent a few days in the dog house, as you might imagine ... not for anything that I had done, but for what I didn't do.
And in case you still don't think skunks are cute, just look at these little guys.