Our little Dachshund, Roscoe, got skunked last night, right in the frickin' face, as I imagine his face was right about spray-height for the skunk. And, as with all thorough skunkings, it happened right at bedtime, so instead of tucking in, we were in the yard bathing the dog with de-skunking stuff.
While his odor is no longer eye-watering bad, he still smells skunky. Adding insult to injury is Mr. H's diminished sense of smell. We put Roscoe in the garage for the night, and this morning, Mr. H let him in the house. Luckily, I caught him before he got too far into the house to rub his smelly head on anything. He needs about two more de-skunking baths and several hours of airing out before I will welcome him back inside.
Skunkings are always a major PITA, but there also seems to be a humorous side to each incident, as well. This one was on Mr. H, who had a pants-soiling moment coming face to face, and then face to rear, with the skunk. Roscoe wasn't coming to the door, so Mr. H had grabbed a flashlight to go find him, as most times he can be found digging around the gutter downspouts trying to get toads. When Mr. H's flashlight caught two sets of eyes gleaming in the darkness, it caused him a bit of a panic. i wish I could have seen his face as the skunk swung its hind end around to take aim at him. Luckily, he got away before being sprayed (what are their re-load capabilities, I wonder?).
Roscoe is so distressed about the disruption to his cushy life, that he has been howling pitifully. We warned the neighbors that, despite the sound of it, Roscoe isn't dying a slow and painful death, he is just mad about being relegated to the garage. I tried to calm him down before leaving for work, I turned the radio on for company, and had brought a special antler bone for him to gnaw on. The little shit was hellbent on escape, and in the process of me trying to slip him a treat, he made a break for it, causing me to bloody my knuckles trying to stop him. Thankless little turd.