Ever
since Willow tangled with not one, but two different porcupines within two
weeks’ time, and cost me over $4,000 for “de-quilling” at the vet’s, my yard
has begun to look like a fortress.
To
reinforce my chain-link fence, I have purchased chicken wire, plastic fencing
on spikes, zip ties, and everything short of razor wire, and I still can’t keep
the wild varmints out…or Willow, a.k.a. “Houdini,” in.
A
couple weekends ago, I let out the dogs at about 11 p.m. and could hear them
running around in the yard and playing with this big rubber ball they have. And
believe me, I’m all in favor of anything that might tire them out, so I left
them out there for about a half-hour.
When
I called them in, only Eden, my new dog, came. Her eyes were wide and she
seemed really excited about something. She kept running up to the door and then
turning around and running back down onto the ground. Her actions reminded me
of that old TV program, “Lassie,” when Lassie the collie would go get help for
her buddy, Timmy, who seemed to get into trouble and need rescuing every week.
Lassie would run up to people, bark, and then turn and run toward wherever
Timmy was, and people would follow her.
So
I jokingly said to Eden, “You want me to follow you? Has Timmy fallen into the
well again?”
I,
in my nightgown and slippers, decided that maybe, just maybe, Eden really did
want me to follow her. So I grabbed a flashlight and let her lead the way. She
led me to the far corner of the yard. As I followed her, I could smell
something – a horrible stench that got stronger with every step, until my eyes
started to burn and water.
When
we reached the fence, Eden stopped and stared through the chain links. I looked
where she was looking, and saw Willow, lying on the ground and pawing at her
eyes
My
first thought was, “How the heck did she get out of the yard?”
My
second thought was, “Well, she didn’t tangle with a porcupine this time…she
tangled with a skunk! Should I be relieved?”
My
longtime friend in Scotland, Pam, once told me they don’t have skunks over
there (lucky people) so she was wondering if I could describe their odor to
her. She said she was imagining skunks smelled something like a septic tank.
That
made me think long and hard about exactly how to describe a skunk’s stink. I’ve
pretty much concluded it defies description.
But to give her a vague idea, I told her to think of the smelliest
armpit she’s ever smelled – and then multiply that odor by 100.
So
I opened the gate and went over to Willow, whose face was soaked with skunk
spray. I led her back into the yard and used the garden hose to flush out her
eyes. Then, I tried to remember where I’d put what I’ve always referred to as
the miracle in a bottle – Skunk-Off by Thornell (there are other products using
the same name, but Thornell is, in my opinion, the king). Skunk-Off comes in a bottle that’s about the
size of a bottle of hand lotion. You squirt some of it onto a cloth and wipe
the dog, yourself or your clothes with it, and it immediately eliminates all
traces of skunk odor – permanently. One small bottle is good for about four
skunk attacks. And, unlike other products, it can be used around the eyes and
on mucus membranes.
The
problem was, even though I knew I’d bought some Skunk-Off to keep on hand in
case of emergencies, it had been packed away in one of the 40 trunks in the
basement when we’d moved into the new house.
The thought of rummaging through all of those trunks made me want to
fling myself down the basement stairs, but I tried to remain calm. Having no
alternative, I began my search.
Only
10 minutes later, I found the treasure I was searching for. Clutching the
bottle as if it were a roll of 100-dollar bills, I bolted up the stairs,
grabbed some paper towels and headed outside to de-stink Willow. The stuff
worked amazingly, to my relief. The instructions said to allow the dog to air-dry
outside before letting it back into the house.
So I left Willow outside. But first, I, with flashlight in hand,
examined the entire perimeter of the fence. I found an area where a hole had
been dug under it, and figured that’s where Willow had escaped. So I stuck some
wire fencing into the ground to block the hole.
Then
I went back into the house…and washed myself with the Skunk-Off.
About
15 minutes later, Eden, who was in the house with me, ran to the back door and
whined, clearly agitated. I figured she
just wanted to go outside to play, but I didn’t want her anywhere near Willow
until I was certain she wasn’t smelly any more.
But
Eden was insistent, even coming up to me and barking.
Finally,
I flipped on both of the outside lights, opened the back door and looked out.
To my horror, there was Willow, once again on the other side of the fence, this
time in an area closer to the house. About five feet away from her was a skunk
– a huge, nearly all-white monster of a skunk.
“No!”
I shouted at Willow. “Don’t move!”
Willow
briefly glanced at me, then bolted after the skunk.
At
that point, I was so frustrated, I was ready to drink the bottle of Skunk-Off,
hoping it would cause my swift and merciful death.
The
next day, I was running late to go to a Labor Day party, mainly because I’d
spent half the night tending to Willow. I backed my car out of the garage and
noticed something lying on the front walkway.
It
was a dead skunk…a badly mangled dead skunk. And it wasn’t the big white one
I’d seen with Willow. It was a small black-and-white one.
That’s
when I realized it must have been the first skunk Willow had encountered when
she’d escaped. The big white one I’d seen her with apparently was the second.
I had no choice but to leave the skunk lying
there.
When
I got home after dark that night, all I can say is the only thing worse than
the odor of a skunk is the odor of a dead skunk that’s been lying out in the
hot sun all day. So even though it was
dark out, I grabbed a shovel, scooped up the corpse, carried it out to the
woods, dug a hole and buried it. All the while, I had the distinct feeling the
big white skunk was watching me and saying, “You murdered my brother! Wait
until the gang hears about this! Revenge will be ours!”
So
until I can afford to have the entire yard filled with concrete and then sink
prison-like bars into it, I’m going to have to keep a close watch on Willow
“Houdini” Breslin.
With
my luck, she’ll escape again and bring home the only remaining living timber
rattlesnake in the state.
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