While lounging in our backyard during a makeshift pool party today (plastic kiddie pool, child-size
Walt got sprayed by a skunk about 3 weeks ago. It was the most horrific, nauseating, gag reflex-inducing smell ever, and smells nothing like the skunk smell in the air. No, on an animal – our dog – it smells like burning rubber, only so much worse it’s impossible to describe.
Walt decided to get into a little scuffle on the night of the Lost season finale, much to my husband’s dismay. What would we do without TiVo? We spent 2 hours douching our dog. Yes, you read that correctly. Douche is the new tomato juice. Our friend, Birdman, runs a doggie daycare/training facility and told us this. I had the privilage of buying 2 boxes of douche each containing 4 bottles. That’s 8 bottles of douche for the non-mathematicians in the audience. I’m sure I made that cashier’s night and was probably the topic of his blog. I’m probably known as the skank in town now. I have bigger problems – a skunked dog and an independence-seeking, test the boundaries 3 year-old – being the town whore is nothing.
Walt lived in the garage for 4 days post-spray until we felt like the smell was mostly gone. He has had about 9 bajillion baths and is fairly fresh smelling, living back in our house, and I want to keep him that way. When I noticed him by the shed, I told him to get away.
Monkey Man: “Mommy, why are you telling Walt to get away?”
Mommy: “Because I think the skunk lives under the shed and I don’t want Walt to get sprayed again.”
MM: “Can I go over there?”
Mommy: “No, I don’t want YOU to get sprayed! You would smell yucky.”
MM: “Then you’ll put ME in the garage?”
Surprisingly, that thought had never entered my mind. But now that you mention it...