Of All the Nights . . .

Of all the nights for Llewellyn to decide to get skunked, he chose this one.

Yeah.  The one where I've been working two different jobs since 7:45 this morning, got home after 11:00 PM from the second one, and haven't finished filing my taxes.

Took him out, soon as I got home.  No leash, since there's no other dogs around that time of night and well, it's easier.

Yeah, right.  Now I know.

The skunk was a white one, frequent around here, sauntering through the parking lot on the other side of the alley.  When he took off after it I prayed it was a cat.  I yelled at him to get his rear back here, and if had been a rabbit, he would have.  But with a skunk, nooooooo!

When he finally came back to me he wasn't fazed at all.  Oh, no, not he!  No yelping, very lively, proceeded to do his business . . .

But he smelled like garlic and something else, which was weird.  Not at all "dead skunk the the middle of the road."  I read that that's how skunk spray smells close up.  Who knew?

Hustled him inside and into the bathtub.  Found out a few minutes ago I should have used peroxide and baking soda, but I hit him with the doggy flea shampoo since it was what I had on hand.

He didn't enjoy the bathing process and it serves him right.  I don't enjoy the garlic stink that's still got its claws embedded in the back of my throat.  But once he got out of the tub, oh, he's Mr. Lively!  He's around ten years old now but he generally contrives to forget it.

Llewellyn's sitting next to my chair as I type this.  Yeah, he's in the house.  What am I supposed to do, kick him out in the backyard where he'll bark at the full moon and disturb the neighbors and get into even more trouble?  When I sniff his fur it smells all right.  That's the dry parts.  Maybe it's the wet parts that still stink.