Hoist By His Own Inner Retard

Mrs. Orr reported that when she let Jinx outside this morning, he was full of zest: bounding around, leaping, grinning, eager to get outside.

I got up shortly after she did and after pouring a cup of coffee, I went to see if Jinx was ready to come inside and eat his breakfast. He was, and he trotted through the door and into the dining room. And that’s when it hit me.

“Could you come here a sec? I think I smell something.” I called to my wife.

She poked her head around the door. “Oh, no,” she said.

Skunk. Majorly. Ah, hell.

This is going to be a very tricky, very busy day at work, so there’s no way I can take off, short of a medical emergency. So the spotted menace is consigned to the back porch and back yard until I get home, at which time the Stink Kit (hydrogen peroxide, Dawn dish detergent, baking soda) will be deployed. I will spend the day dreading this, because the last time I bathed a post-skunk Jinx, he threw me all over the bathroom and just about cracked a rib.

We all need something to look forward to.

I’m grateful it’s going to be a sunny, mild day. At least His Royal Reekness can snooze in the sun while he awaits my return. I suppose it’s too much to hope that he’ll have learned his lesson this time.

Go to, old man, and weep and howl and sigh. Thy dog’s foolishness is come down upon you. Inhale, and despair…

~ S.K. Orr