Things that go "skunk" in the night...

We live in what passes for the country. At various times of the year we have bobcats and coyotes near or in our yard. The deer use the Progress Energy HT transmission line right-of-way near our yard as a highway to move through our mostly-rural county. The hawks and vultures ride the thermals generated by the open fields nearby, searching for prey.

Across the street from us is a 120 acre farm, inhabited by 20 or so of the nicest beef cattle you'd ever want to meet. Occasionally the farmhand amigos visit to give the cows tasty, round hay bales. When they yell, "Vacas! Vacas!" the cattle come running, no matter how far away they are in the pasture. In fact, if they even think they hear the farm truck driving up, they'll come running.

We sit on our front porch in the summertime during thunderstorms watching the lightning in the distance, and we listen to the thunder sweep across the panorama of the farm in front of us, from east to west, and back again.

I set this scene so you'll understand that in the country, there are lots of country things. There are farms, domesticated animals, and wild animals. In our little corner of the hill, there are also skunks.

Our German Shepherd Dog Rio has a stick up her butt for skunks. This latest time makes four that she has encountered a black and white striped "kitty", and tried to play with it, only to learn the hard way that not all kitties are fun to play with, and doggone it, sometimes they just want to be left alone.

The first time it happened was about two years ago, and she must have gotten a full load of spray because when she ran into the house, she proceeded to try to rub off the scent from her muzzle on every piece of furniture in the house. As a result, the entire house and all our clothes, smelled of skunk for several months. After multiple launderings, carpet shampoos, and dog baths, eventually the smell wore off.

We had hope that she had learned her lesson. She hadn't.

Last spring it happened again. This time we realized what was going on, and didn't let her into the house. Even so, she smelled of skunk for a good 3 months. She must have learned something from her first experience, because this time the skunk only managed to get one side of her face.

Then last fall - you guessed it - she tried *again* to play with that pesky black and white striped kitty, with the same result. By this time she'd gotten to be an old hand at avoiding a direct hit of skunk spray, and she only smelled bad for a couple months.

"Okay, third time's the charm," I thought. "Now she's learned her lesson!" Not so fast.

Last weekend, Saturday morning, I was sleeping on the daybed downstairs after an especially long and wet, Late Night Radio session. I figure I hit the mattress sometime after 2am. The back door had been left open because it was nice out. At some point Rio decided to take a stroll outside, and yet again encountered her favorite black and white striped kitty friend. I awoke about 4:30am to the unmistakable, sulphurous smell of skunk.

Donna came downstairs, took the dog outside, and immediately gave her a shampoo. That was good enough for the rest of the night. The next day, she washed the dog in de-skunk bath, (doesn't perform as advertised) and later, lemon dishwashing detergent (works great).

Five days later, Rio still retains the pungent, skunky smell, but at least we can stand to be in the same room with her.

I think tomorrow night I'll make sure the back door is closed before I get on the air.