Last Friday when I left home around three in the afternoon, the good Lord put the thought in my mind to close the dog door coming into our house. I am sure it was Him, since Jake and Jill come and go at will.
Jill (part jack russell and part rat terrier) had been in the mud down by the creek earlier and I had hosed her off, but I didn’t want to take a chance of her returning to her spa for another mud bath and then coming inside. If that door had been left open, we’d a had to move. Thank you, Jesus.
I came home about six o’clock and both dogs greeted me at the garage door. They were so happy to be able to get back into the house; I could see them both grinning. As I was unloading groceries, I caught a most malodorous aroma. Instantly, I herded them back out the door and a terrible, horrible very bad thought tiptoed through my mind: “skunk!” It’s a word that causes anguish in every rural dog owner’s heart. Other words crept into my thoughts, but I did not let them out of my mouth until Walter got home to hear them.
You’d think after all those years around strong chemical smells (Walter owns Franklin Body Shop) the nose hairs in a man’s nasal passages would be burned out, but you’d be wrong. That man has a nose like a bloodhound and probably started smelling the skunk spray at the mailbox. The second he entered the house he knew we’d been skunked again.
Contrary to what has been told, the reason we did not jump right on de-skunking the dogs had nothing to do with food or beverages. I was just too tired to launch into the operation. Besides, even though we already had Dawn dishwashing detergent, the peroxide and baking soda had to be bought.
(All I have to say about the common tomato juice cure for de-skunking is that there’s a better and cheaper way.)
So, Jake (a mountain feist) spent his first night since moving to Jacobs Branch, outside. But it was not without leading a protest march. He did everything, just in case he was accidentally locked out. He bounced up on the glass door, shouting, “Hey, it’s me. Let me in. I don’t smell a thing” until I had to fuss at him and hurt his feelings. Jill, the perpetrator as we later discovered, didn’t care one whit whether she was in or out, and she lay low.
The next day, I filled up the kiddie pool with warm water while Walter went to buy the products. Jake was first to get the treatment and unbelievably did not throw a fit. He must’ve realized the seriousness of his situation. Jill is always a good girl when she gets bathed, and she stood still as a statue while peroxide and soda and Dawn made her whiter than she’s been in a long time.
By this time, I was nose-blind to the skunky smell, but not Walter. He’d sniff and snort, and we’d wash some more. During this process we came to the realization that Jake had not been sprayed. His partner in crime, however, gave a whole new meaning to taking it on the chin. Honestly, that skunk must’ve hit her right on her muzzle. I don’t know how, but somehow it did not get in her eyes.
Jake was home free and house-worthy. Jill – not so much. It is not part of the formula, but we finished the treatment with a rinse of Scope mouthwash. I’ll take credit for that idea. I don’t think it really helps, but it made me feel better, and made them minty fresh for about two seconds.
My burning question is, “How long does skunk smell linger?” Well, six days later, when Jill passed by, the faint aroma of Mr. Skunk still wafted up into my nostrils. I’m about to change my mind about who is the better dog.