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  • We have two big dogs. I love our dogs, but they don't listen. I should say, they hear me, but they don't return the consideration of responding to my commands. They also like to sneak out of the house when someone opens a door, which they did one night recently. I called for their return, but no response.

    At 2:00 AM that night, I heard a whimpering and pawing at the front door. My prodigal canines had returned home from their midnight adventure. When I got out of bed to let them in, I was overpowered by an acute, foul, nauseating smell that quite literally singed my nose hairs off. The culprit: they had been skunked on their evening jaunt.

    I put the dogs in the garage, unable to even fathom how to deal with this situation, got back in bed, pulled the covers over my nose and tried to go back to sleep. The solution would have to wait for the morning.

    Now, let me tell you, there are three important considerations one makes when attempting to formulate a plan for this high of a level of detoxification: How to detox the house, the dogs, and last but not least, yourself and with what measures.

    I researched and discussed amongst my peers; there was much debate on which worked best for the dogs and my own body: baking soda or tomato juice. So it was no surprise when I found myself on Aisle 4 between the marshmallows and spices, having a nervous breakdown, in the middle of the afternoon on an otherwise gorgeous day. I bought 8 industrial size boxes of baking soda and 8 gallons of tomato juice.

    Overkill? I think not.

    I washed myself and the dogs in tomato juice AND powdered with baking soda and finally rinsed with good, clean water. All which culminated in what would prove an intense and humiliating process both for the dogs and myself... and resembled a scene from "Texas Chainsaw Massacre". I don't think I've had very many humiliating experiences that can top being sprayed by a shaking, wet dog with tomato juice. I opened doors, windows, burned candles, sprayed even more toxic air-fresheners....everything I could do to rid my life of this unbearable odor. Other than the Bloody Mary's from some of the reserved tomato juice, nothing really helped.

    The whole while I thought it impossible how one little animal could cause this much devastation and chaos. I've come to the conclusion that this could not have been a single ambush by a renegade skunk, but a highly articulated plan by a convoy of these notorious carnivores whose sole mission is to drive me absolutely insane. I wanted to buy night-vision goggles with the hopes of tracking these little fuckers, but realized I didn't know what I would do if I actually saw one in my backyard in the middle of the night, as their ammunition outweighs any that I have in my arsenal.

    I usually don't give up so easily, but with this one, I did. Skunk: One, Team Me: Zero. I reckon' it's just one of those things you have to suffer through. The kind of suffering you can taste on the roof of your mouth, hoping one day the tide will turn, or in this case, the wind will shift.

    I'm getting used to the smell now, which if you don't know, is a cross between a Guatemalan coffee roasting facility and burnt hair, with a splash of citrus, just for shits and giggles. It's a good thing I've learned to play so nicely with such a nauseating stench as it has permeated every corner of our house and pore of my body. The scent has not given way to the sweet fragrance of spring, but just writing this helps me to smell the "Bright Side".
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