Once Upon a Skunk

I have often said that I would rather run into a bear than a skunk. Actually, I have come in close contact with a (small) bear and after we both stood there in awe and wonder of each other, we simultaneously realized the danger and quickly went our separate ways. That’s not to say that it could be catastrophically worse the next time (and I hope there won’t be a next time). But for me, I have a strong aversion to skunks bordering on irrational fear. It seems to have gotten worse over the years. There’s actually a name for it. Mephitophobia. I didn’t realize the level of phobia I have regarding skunks, until recently. It started out like any other night. My dog, Betsy, was unusually wound up. I attribute it to the fact that she is getting a lot less exercise than she was when I was home over the spring and summer months. So I suggested that we head out in the backyard to play frisbee. It was dark out, so I flipped on the back light. Now, I usually scan the back yard quickly for any sign of a white stripe, but I was negligent. I didn’t even consider it. I swung open the door and Betsy immediately took a hard left and pounced. At first, I thought it was a cat, until she jumped back and I saw the telltale white tail in the air. It was at this point that I lost my mind. I started yelling and jumping up and down trying to get her to come back inside (mistake #1). But for some reason, she seemed to want to investigate this strange new friend further. By the time I got her into the garage, the damage had been done. We proceeded to hose her down immediately (mistake #2), and donned with rubber gloves, we used what we had, roughly half of a 32 oz. bottle of Dawn dish soap. But it didn’t seem to work at all. Our entire house reeked. I swore I could taste it. The stench seemed to coat my nostrils. The level of anxiety that this particular incident invoked rivaled that of a car accident or natural disaster. I was a wreck. Would I smell like skunk at work the next day? How long would our house stink? This whole incident was a practice in calming down and reminding myself that it could, in fact be worse. I could have gotten mauled by a bear, right? I definitely won’t be as lax the next time I swing open the back door after sunset. The funny thing was, that no one really batted an eyelash. “Oh, that happened to my dog last week,” my friend said casually. And after a few days it really wasn’t that big of a deal. My husband seemed somewhat amused when he said, “We just need to learn to get along with our skunk friends.” That’s fine. As long as they keep their distance.