Speaking of Skunks…

So Sasha our saint bernard got sprayed by a skunk yesterday, and I reacted with predicted vengeance. It wasn’t a proud moment for any party involved. Well actually I’m pretty sure the skunk was proud of himself, but my big mouth quickly put an end to his gloating.  The incident unfolded as follows…

 It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon. Nathan (my man) had gone outside to cut up the pile of firewood we had hauled in the day before.  I, not being much of a lumberjack myself, decided it was a perfect opportunity for Sasha and I to take a little afternoon stroll. We were not 300 yards from the house when I noticed a strange looking rock not far from us that I couldn’t recall ever seeing before. I shrugged it off and kept going, only to have the light bulb turn on in my head about a second later. A second too late…Sasha had spotted the black and white striped rock and was on the move. I yelled out in vein “Sasha NOOOOOOOOO!” but to no avail.  I was surprised to see that the critter did not spray her immediately.  Instead it stood up on its hind legs and confronted its much larger foe as if to say, “just try me BITCH”.  I of course, was a safe distance away watching the events unfold and shrieking and pleading with my dog to step away from the strange looking kitty. It was quickly over after that. Sasha came slinking back, smelling putrid and looking defeated. I moved into action.

Making a wide sweep around the skunk, which still held its ground menacingly, I ran towards the house yelling for Nathan. Unfortunately, between the chain saw running and me still being a distance away, Nathan went on cutting his wood unperturbed. I flailed my arms, I sputtered, and I shouted. Nothing. Finally, I got my break when he looked up to grab another log, and in that moment I yelled something that a year and a half ago would have been unfathomable to me, “Nathan, GET YOUR GUN!”  That’s all it took. Within 10 seconds Nathan was in and out of the house and in his pickup, speeding past me, rifle in hand. Needless to say, the skunk situation was quickly taken care of.

That evening I couldn’t help but reflect on the day’s events. How bad Sasha still smelled; how it secretly turned me on to witness Nathan’s masculine instinct to protect and destroy; and how much I have changed since coming to live with this cowboy on his ranch two Septembers ago.  Some pacifist I’ve turned out to be. It’s funny how things take on a new light when you actually live them. We can’t have skunks “stinkin’ up the place”. At least that’s what Nathan keeps telling me.   

In conclusion, the skunk is dead (if that wasn’t obvious enough), and I am a professed killer of defenseless animals. But the real loser here is Sasha. She had to take a bath.

-Jennie Bah