I slide farther forward, looking for any sign of something keeping the cat from leaving, but I don’t see anything. There’s just a really big, black cat curled up under Mrs. Hughes' house, with no apparent interest in moving.
I pull a cat treat from my pocket and move closer. “Here kitty, I’ve got a yummy treat for you.”
The black cat shifts and separates into two cats, both of whom have white stripes in their fur and both of whom are raising their tails in my direction.
“Oh, shit.” I manage to turn my head, so that I don’t get sprayed in the face, but I still get a direct hit to my hair and body from two fully grown skunks.
I shove myself backward as fast as I can, dragging the cat carrier, and praying those skunks aren’t rabid.
Rocks scrape my skin as I crawl backwards, faster than I’ve ever gone toward an exit.
“Oh, nooo,” Mrs. Hughes wails. She must have gotten a whiff of what she’s going to be smelling for the next two weeks at least.
I shove myself out into the sunlight and flop onto my back in the dirt. My eyes are watering, and my throat is scratchy, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to puke.
Mrs. Hughes hurries away, but returns a few moments later and offers me a hand. “Sit up,” she says. “Drink this.”
My stomach roils as I let her help me up to sit. I take the glass she offers me.
“It’s ginger ale,” she says. “It’ll help with the nausea.”
I take a small sip, surprised when it does help. I sit and sip and just breathe until my eyes stop stinging, and I can catch my breath. “You’ve been sprayed before?” I ask.
She nods. “Got me point blank. I stunk to high heaven for weeks.”
I sigh. “Unfortunately, your home is likely going to smell for weeks. I’ll set a live trap before I leave, and we can have the skunks euthanized. I’m betting they have a nest with babies under there.”
“You want to kill them?” Mrs. Hughes glares at me like I just threatened to kill her.
“I don’t love it either, but skunks are rabies vectors. I can’t move them to another property, and if I move them somewhere else on this property, they’ll likely just come back here.”
Mrs. Hughes’ expression softens. “That’s okay. I don’t mind them being here. I’ll give them space and, if I see them acting funny, I’ll call you back to take care of them.”
She really is sweet.
“Are you sure you want them to live under your house? They could cause structural damage.”
She shrugs. “I had a terrible mouse problem last fall, and I haven’t seen a single one yet this year. I’d bet it’s thanks to those skunks. I’d rather have them than mice in my kitchen any day.”
I’m not sad that I don’t have to euthanize a skunk family. “If you change your mind or they cause you any trouble, give me a call.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says. “Can I do anything else for you before you go? I could hose you off right quick.”
I push to my feet, feeling a little dizzy, but a bit less nauseous. Straight hose water won’t do anything but make me wet. “I appreciate the offer, but I should get back to work. Have a good day.”
She smiles and waves to me as I leave. Finally, a happy customer.
I call the head office as I bump down the dirt drive, and Shaleigh suggests I take the rest of the day off. She actually suggests I take the rest of the week off, but I’m not using my sick days over a skunk spray.
After dropping off the truck and cleaning it as quickly as I’ve ever cleaned it before, I head home with all my car windows down. I’ve started to adjust a bit to the stench, but one thing I know about skunk spray is that it lingers on everything it touches. My truck is going to smell, my car is going to smell, and I’m going to stink. Possibly for weeks.
At home, I leave the windows open in my car and head around to the back porch. My backyard is fully viewable to three different neighbors, but there’s no way I’m bringing my stinkyuniform inside. The less I infect the house with stink, the quicker it’ll fade.
With a quick look around and seeing no one, I strip down to my underwear and bra and rush into the house. Marmalade mews at me as I streak past her. The house is a disaster, as it has been every day I’ve come home, but I don’t have time to clean. I hurry into the pantry, grab the baking soda, and race into the bathroom.
I slam the door behind me to try to minimize the smell getting out into the rest of the house and start the bath, dumping in the baking soda as soon a the water’s warm enough.
When the tub’s full, I step out of my undies, pull my sports bra off over my head and sink all the way down into the warm water, head and all. I stay down there until I need to breathe, then pop back up.
