The Sequel

It was Saturday night. The air was cool and clean. A girl was out walking her baby and her dog. The baby in a stroller was talking quietly to himself, the dog was on a leash sniffing politely here and there.

The dog found a bush. He became excited, startling the quiet of the night with his barks and lunges. A creature emerged from the bushes and ran down the road with the dog tearing after him, having ripped the leash out of the girl's hand.

The girl, recognizing the imminent danger but lacking the presence of mind to simply turn and flee, ran after the dog who had now cornered the terrible beast and forced him to turn his back end to the girl.

"Zeus, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she cried. But she cried too late. A moment later....



Well, a moment later I called my husband (at work, for crying out loud) to rant and rave, knowing full well he could nothing at the time. "THE DOG JUST RAN AFTER A SKUNK AND I GOT SPRAYED AND ZEUS GOT SPRAYED AND NOW THE DOG HAS RAN OFF BUT I DON'T CARE I COULD KILL HIM AND STOP LAUGHING, THIS ISN'T FUNNY."

Then I called my mother, to rant and rave some more. The dog came back. I yelled at him to stay away, stay far away.

The rest of the walk home is a blur of ranting and raving and stench, but somehow I arrived by my front door. One of the Rescuing Aunts (Rebecca, in this case) was on her way to take Haydon while I bathed Zeus and then myself. Being unwilling to pick up my son in my current state, I rocked him in the stroller until Rebecca arrived.

Out, out I bravely went to give the Zeus Dog what would be the first of his many tomato, vinegar, and baking soda baths.

Riddle me this. I smelled like skunk. You would have thought this would have been a natural mosquito repellent. In fact, I was eaten alive and with each new splash of skunk-drenched water from the dog and each new bite you could hear my nerves snap audibly.

"GOOD GRIEF,' I cried to the moon and stars in general, "SKUNKS AND MOSQUITOES, I HATE NATURE!!" (Hardly a typical thought for me, but we all have our moments.)

The bath hadn't done much for Zeus, but I was done. I ran into the house and threw my clothes in the washer and showered and showered. I had no idea how my hair was going to look the next morning, I just grabbed anything that looked promising and smeared it into my hair. Witch Hazel, Mary Kay satin hands exfoliant, baking soda, etc....

By this time Haydon was at the end of his rope as well, so I took Haydon and fed him while the Rescuing Aunt departed. (And she needed a shower too, by then, having walked through the haze of aroma that followed the dog and I wherever we went.)

Jeremy picked up more vinegar and Baking soda on his way home from work and upon his arrival he took Haydon and I began the preparations for Zeus's second bath. Tomato sauce, vineger, and baking soda all went into a tremendous bowl and being in a tremendous hurry and more than slightly crazy by this point, I promptly whisked it all together. (It sounds oh so very stupid when I write it down like that.)

A moment later, a volcanic torrent of tomato sauce was spewing and frothing all over the countertops and running down to the floor. And that towel? You know that towel about which I said "No Jeremy, please don't use that to smother the fire in my microwave?"

It was the first one to hand to stem the tomato sauce tide.

That was the end for me. I sat down on the floor with my head in my hands and announced my resignation.

Haydon and I went to bed, Jeremy gave Zeus yet another bath that didn't do him any good. We had at first intended to leave him outside for the night, but with a tornado watch and a horrific thunderstorm we couldn't exactly do that in good conscience.

Lacking a proper garage, we tried the vacant upstairs but the storm was driving Zeus crazy and nobody was getting any sleep anyway.

So down he came.

Well, I could go on. But no doubt you've had enough gory details for one reading, so suffice today that by yet another tomato bath and a few days later, we faced the sad facts and clipped the poor dog. He looks most unmanly.

But the real tragedy? Every once in a while, when the wind is just right, you can still catch a whiff of skunk on him.