I returned home late Wednesday night, exhausted from my conference and a five hour drive from the coast. The Pilot was off piloting and the dogs were happy to see me (and to finally have their dinner.) I fed them and crawled into bed.
A few hours later, crazed barking dogs awakened me. I stumbled downstairs and yelled at them to come inside. Rotor pranced up to me, grinning, with her tail at its full proud mast. The following conversation ensued:
Jayne: Good God, what is that stench?!
Rotor: Heh heh heh.
J: A SKUNK sprayed you, didn't it?
R: Yeah, and it was the coolest thing EVER!
J: Get in the tub!
J: You know this is Daddy's favorite vegetable juice - it's organic and everything, and not cheap!
J: Gross, now you smell like tomato juice and the tub looks like a crime scene. Now for the coconut shampoo.
R: This is all so worth it!
J: Okay, stop gloating and get out of here.
My dog is never happier than when she is filthy and reeking. She will run, slo-mo, to any rotting carcass on the beach and roll in it, as I scream " N-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!!!!" I swear, time slows down during these moments. Being sprayed by a skunk, after a good chase, was doggie heaven for Rotor.
The house still smelled like skunk, so I sprayed it with some Cinnamon Toast perfume from Demeter (it smells just like the name mmmmm.)
But the overpowering miasma of skunk, tomato juice, coconut and cinnamon -- Satan trying his hand at Thai cooking -- continued to assault my senses for hours.
And the recurring thought that I couldn't wait to blog this contributed in no small part to my sleeplessness. I am such a loser.
Kristen over at Motherhood Uncensored recently posted about a parenting rite of passage of children doing a certain thing in the bathtub.
Being skunked must be a similar rite of passage for dog owners. Lucky me.