Cold, windy night and after I finished a late dinner and had paid Ryan, my handyman, for putting in a ceiling fan in my downstairs bathroom, I took Cookie for her last work before bedtime.
I wish I hadn't. We had gone no further than a half block when she leaped into the neighbor's planter bed and attacked a small skunk. I thought I got her away in time, but she was frothing gunky, ooky stuff from her mouth. This is her fifth time since I've owned her that this has happened.
I short leashed her, wiped the offending juices from her muzzle with my good ski scarf (which I threw away), and walked her upstairs and into the bathtub. Tomato juice first and then I turned on the hand held shower and soaped her down with her foo-foo, good smelling shampoo--again and again and again.
Fortunately, the skunk goo only got on her face. I toweled her down and she is indignantly drying. She does look downcast, doesn't she? But so do I. I can smell it in the house, but I've seen her totally skunked a few times when nothing seemed to help, not even a professional groomer.
Wow, the 'hood can get pretty exciting sometimes. So, now we both deserve to go to bed with a book, don't we?
