One of the most recent adventures included a skunk and our two dogs.
Ever since we moved into our home (which has now been about a year and a half), we have had the pleasure of being able to sit on our front porch and enjoy the pleasant smell of skunk spray wafting on the summer breeze— or being able to eat dinner while the gentle fragrant odors of the neighborhood vermin fill our nostrils.
So our easy conclusion, from the scents we smelled on many an evening, was that we had moved into a community that was harboring skunks. We probably wouldn’t have minded as badly if the skunks would have kept far away; but no, they had to tramp around our private property.
And that is where the dogs enter the story. Our dogs are pretty pampered and spoiled; they are allowed to have free roam of the whole backyard. They exercise their territorial rights very well, and guard their land to the extreme. Any low-flying bird or innocent bunny that wanders too closely into the realm of “The Dogs” will soon regret their trespassing. Animals talk in hushed whispers of the viciousness that lives within the backyard. They school their children to fear those two big mammals with sharp teeth and low growls.
Well, it so happens that Mr. Skunk decided to risk the chance of entering the feared domain. Who knows why? I never got the chance to ask him. Perhaps he was trying to be brave and daring and show off to his friends; perhaps he was coming home from work and decided to take a shortcut; perhaps he thought dog food would make a better meal than his usual courses. Perhaps he never had the true fear he should have. You know how skunks can be. They seem to think they are the masters of the animal world because of their stinky weapons.
Whatever the reason was, Mr. Skunk should have never given into the temptation to enter the forbidden realm of “The Dogs.”
There was not even a body left to send home to his family for a proper burial. There were only a few pieces of fur to be kept in remembrance.
Like people, skunks do not always learn from experience. After such a terrible tragedy, why would you even let the thought of entering the territory of “The Dogs” enter your mind? Oh, the powers of temptations- they make the strongest of us fall.
Let me explain myself. In the back yard, I also keep a garden. In the garden lives a groundhog, protected from the dogs by the bamboo fence that surrounds it. My ever-caring brother decided to catch Grandpa Groundhog for me by setting a cage trap. He carefully set it up and applied a big hunk of peanut butter inside to lure the annoying creature.
Grandpa Groundhog was too smart for that little trick, but Miss Skunkette just had to get a taste of that peanut butter. Inside she went, and down came the door. She was trapped. When the dogs realized that there was a trapped skunk in their midst, they of course were delighted. But how can you get at a caged skunk? They were trying to figure that out when Miss Skunkette decided that she had had enough of this craziness and let loose her beautiful aroma. Dog 1 was smart enough to stay in front of Miss Skunkette, but Dog 2 received the full blast. Needless to say, he was not a very happy dog or a very good-smelling one.
And so ends my little story. The dogs lived on, but the skunk didn’t. Dog 1 never suffered a bit; however, Dog 2 is still living with the every-present cologne of Skunk.
So the moral of the story is simply this: Never give into the temptation of peanut butter- for its powers hold a sway that not many can overcome!