Well That Just Stinks!

There are few moments more disheartening than the one in which you realize the skunk smell is not just outside.

I've been down this road before, always at about two in the morning, always on a night when the absolute last thing I needed to be doing was waiting downstairs for the sky to start lightening and, ultimately, for the PetSmart grooming department to open. Note to self: next time Manny wants to pee in the middle of the night, let him do it on the carpet.

I started by doing what I could with what was available. I dragged Manny into the downstairs bathroom and found my emergency stash of tomato juice. After a few rinses, I couldn't decide which was worse: the skunk odor or the smell of old, warm tomato juice from a can. I'm convinced they're quite similar; no more Bloody Marys for me any time soon.

Anyone who's ever experienced the unparalleled delights of a skunked dog knows that the stench becomes so embedded in your nostrils you become certain that you yourself have been sprayed. No matter how many vanilla candles you light, no matter how many times you stick your nose near your dog's fur and think maybe it's not that bad, you're stuck with the odor for quite a while.

After the tomato juice bath, I went on line to refresh my memory as to the necessary ingredients for a plain old household deskunking concoction. Naturally, I was missing one. So, off I went to Walgreens, happy for the break from the smell of my house until one of the nasty little critters had the gall to cross the road right in front of me. I told him to move on if he knew what was good for him; next time, I'd turn the little stinker into a rug. Luckily, it was almost three in the morning by then, so I'm guessing nobody heard me yelling at a skunk. People are already wondering about me around here.

When I arrived at the checkout in Walgreens, the nice lady at the register told me I was the third person in the past hour who had appeared on an emergency skunk run. Hopefully I don't smell as bad as the stench in my nostrils would have me believe, and it was simply the cans of air freshener and the two bottles of hydrogen peroxide that clued her in.

Manny is now whimpering at the back door, desperate to go back out and play with his new friend -- the one with the really cool tricks up his sleeve. I am trying to curl up in my desk chair and catch a little nap without carrying any of the contamination to the upstairs rooms.

Naturally, I'm looking at the bright side. I had gone to bed trying to figure out which of the thousands of things I had to do in the morning before leaving town I would get done. Now I know the answer is none of them. I will simply be counting the minutes, waiting for the doors to open at PetSmart.