I should know better than to take the dogs for a walk in the park after dark. It was all going reasonably well, watching the fuzzy forms chase through the gloom. Have you noticed dogs always look as if they are running faster at night? But when Target stopped at the fence of the closed off area - where bird watchers in their North Face raingear and Timberland fleece stare longingly through powerful lenses at the $60,000 man-made sand mounds, willing there to be a burrowing owl rather than a junket of crows - that was when I knew we might have a problem. The tail swished slowly, the eyes focused on an unseen (to me) dot in the distance, Aida tried to reassure me that she was ogling a bird. I knew better. That ain't no bird. And I called to my black and white and called again. But she was over or under a fence she had never shown the slightest interest in before and her body was out of my sight in seconds. Pina, the bullheaded chihuahua was right behind her.
I hoped it was a rabbit. Not because I want her to catch any small mammal, but because I knew...just knew that I wasn't in the mood. The mood for the overpowering smell that came into our nostrils seconds later as the black and white dog raced back to the fence, low to the ground, scratching her eyes feverishly, tail and ego tamped down and began rolling in the sodden grasses and dirt as the stinging yellow stream ran down her snout. Ya gotta hand it to skunks. Cars are almost the only predator that doesn't yelp and disappear in the face of a little spray.
Funny how a dog can scale a fence in pursuit of something but becomes a useless lump trying to get back out of the forbidden kingdom. Aida had to climb into the 'habitat' and lift this 45 pound of putrid canine and throw her back over. Pina, amazed by the defiance of an animal no bigger than she was, came back immediately with tales of a huge monster that made itself small and shot steaming oil out of thousand orifices.
When you are a 5 pound midget like Pina, the stories can sometimes get a little fanciful. Target was eager to share the bounty and as I tied her into the back of the car (which I had just freakin' cleaned), I was ready to dump her in the night box at the Shelter. And then as the aroma, no not aroma - the stench, the sickening gagging stench, filled the car another familiar scent reached me 'I've got frickin' shit on my shoes' and by this time hysteria had replaced any remaining sense of calm.
I slammed on the brakes, Aida was gagging out the window and I was screaming into the night air and stamping my feet trying deperately to shake loose the squished splat of dog shit that had affixed to my right sole and slurped up the side. A night riding bicyclist took a wide turn away from the scene which played out under the security lamps of Golden Gate Fields racetrack. By the time we got back to my house, we were both crying from laughing, Aida was still gagging out the window and Target and the others wanted dinner. I feel sorry for the dog actually. A mix of hydrogen peroxide and baking soda took the edge off, but not enough and she had to spend the night in a crate. And she'll do the same for the next week. Everything stinks, it's as if the skunk oil is inside the lining of your nose. Even my coffee this morning seemed less Columbian french pressed and more Nescafe powder.
So that's the skunks. Where's the scoundrels? I have no idea. It seemed like a nice title for a blog.
I am sorry to laugh at your misfortune, but, dang, that was funny and I needed the laugh.
Posted by: debra | October 15, 2009 at 10:59 AM