(2012, living in New Mexico)
In Taos, I have a good friend named Meredith. We bonded this summer over a delicious pastime: dogs, river, sun, hats, and cider.
Her dog, Gus, is a gorgeous, happy black lab. If you've never seen the crazy dance a herding dog and a ball-chasing dog go through as their instincts play out in a river, it's pretty funny. Bonanza was constantly convinced that Gus was trying to 'get away,' and Gus kept having to fight off this crazy b*tch who seemed hell bent on stealing his ball.
Here. Before we get to the skunk part, let's look at how sweet these guys are!
Such good dogs!
Wow, skunk is potent. I think my hair…
So last evening, Meredith and I caravan to my place anticipating a drink and chat; then, SLEEP. A mellow night. Awesome.
Ha.
We pull in, and the dogs jump out. Gus sends a quality neener-neener! in Bonanza's direction because he doesn't have a leash on because his Mom loves him!
Bonanza cries to herself as I fumble for the keys, and I'm thinking -- Man, I should just get her off her leash so she can go check out the bushes with Gus.
But the key suddenly fits in the lock. Bonanza goes inside, I go inside, I hear Meredith calling Gus to get his cute butt back to the house.
We do not notice that Gus is foaming at the mouth until he careens inside and slides on his face down the hall carpet, trying to GET THE HORRIBLE OH MY GOD MY EYES stuff off.
Bonanza is impressed.
Gus' actions register as strange a full few seconds before the smell hits, and then -- HOLY CRAP. It's so potent it doesn't even smell like skunk; it's more of a high school lab's chemical disaster and the two attending students are standing slack-jawed on the verge of remembering that someone should pull the emergency shower cord, but keep getting distracted because THERE'S A RABID UNHAPPY DOG RUNNING INTO WALLS AND FALLING INTO STUFF AND ANOTHER CONFUSED AND CURIOUS DOG TRYING TO INVESTIGATE SO SHE CAN SMELL PRETTY TOO!
There is a period of blankness, here, that ends with a snapshot of Bonanza squealing from the confines of my bedroom; Meredith standing in the guest bathtub pouring water on Gus; and me poking furiously at my damn temporary cell phone before realizing there is no Internet on it, there is really no point in calling anyone, and I will need to go to an actual computer to get skunk-wash recipes.
I am going for supplies. Meredith is going to keep an eye on Gus, now trapped in the backyard, goopy-eyed and staring sadly through the door.
I am, by far, the stinkiest thing that has walked into Smith's in at least a year. I pass by and people's brows furrow and their noses lift a little, testing the air. They glance around but I walk by quickly enough they don't zero in on me. Maybe.
I find the Hydrogen Peroxide right as -- truly -- 'Who Let The Dogs Out' starts playing over the PA.
At the counter, I put down my basket and wait. The checker smiles brightly and picks up the first bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide.
I clear my throat. "Ahm. So…can you tell?"
She almost slams the bottle back onto the conveyer. "Oh God, it IS you!" She shakes her head. "The people in front of you smelled bad, but nothing like you!"
I laugh. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just here to grab some dog wash ingredients."
Her eyes get wide and she glances again at the basket. "You put vodka in it?!"
"Ah, nope."
She starts laughing, and I start laughing, and the bagger dudes want to know what's going on but don't want to get too close, so we laugh harder.
Back at the house with a little more presence of mind, we roll rugs and lift stuff out of the way of potential disaster and put on ratty clothes. We find upbeat music and turn it waaaaaay up. I mix up Batch One of dog goop, we get a stack of towels, and Meredith leads Gus into the bathtub. By this time, he's rolled around in the muddy backyard trying to feel better. He's squinting and miserable and filthy and shivering. Meredith grabs his collar and steadies herself. I pick up the bowl of dog goop.
Twenty minutes later, we are sprawled exhausted in easy chair and couch, drinks in hand, talking about whether or not skunks are rodents (they are not) and what the largest rodent in North America is, then (a pet Capybara in Austin that Meredith has seen being walked at the dog park). I learn that Sugar Gliders are seriously co-dependent and like to hang out in socks. Gus is frolicking with wagging tail, giddy-happy in a way that only wet Labs can get.
Bonanza eyes him as he plays with her rope toy.
It's a little chilly, what with the cool air coming in through the open windows.
We know we must be lounging in a cloud of skunk funk, but cannot smell it anymore.
And the dogs are so very happy with the evening.