George Gets Skunked...

... That's the morning headline. I did the usual thing. If it's still dark when I first get up, I take him out on a leash for his morning pee. When it's already light, I open the back door for him and he runs down into the garden by himself. This morning, it was kind of half and half. I judged that the morning twilight was light enough.

Big mistake. I was just about to settle down for my morning sit when he charged back in and the reek of skunk was everywhere. George's first instinct was to try to rub the stink off onto the carpet. Not a great idea. The carpet is only a year or so old, and Ellie has been been protecting it carefully. I picked him up and woke Ellie. The remedy might be a tomato juice bath--but did we have the wherewithal? It seemed not. Ellie recalled that feminine douche might also do the trick, but we didn't have that, either. A trip to the market, then. George was shut out on the balcony to await his reward for bad behavior, and I fired up the Prius...

I made it to the local market twenty minutes before opening time. Called Ellie on the trusty cell phone. She thought the other, slightly more distant market might be open. I drove further, but that one, too, was closed. Drove back to our local market, which by this time was open, and chatted with the girls at the checkout counter about feminine douche. They giggled. Armed with my purchases--four cans of Campell's tomato juice and a pack of extra strength water and vinegar feminine douche--I took the back route home to avoid the high school traffic.

George had his bath. He got a good rub with feminine douche first, and tomato juice next, followed by dog shampoo. He emerged looking bedraggled and justly pained by the experience.



There must be a teaching in all this. One thing, for sure, is never to mistake morning twilight for the light of day: George gets the leash if there's even a hint of darkness in the air. Otherwise: don't ever take your sitting time for granted. Life's contingencies might get in the way.