Tonight the ice hockey league started up for the season. It’s from 10 to midnight, and an hour’s ride home.
Having not done much rollerblading this summer, you can imagine I was feeling it after two hours. Looking forward to getting home, drinking a beer, watching a little TV, and resting my weary bones.
I let the behemoth mutt-dog out to do his business. His pen is in the backyard, and 9,999 times out of 10,000, he just runs to his pen, I close the door, that’s that.
This was that one other time.
Somehow, in the 1 a.m. darkness, he spies a skunk in the neighboring vacant lot. He makes a beeline. He takes a direct hit to the face. He stinks. A lot.
I, of course, don’t have any hydrogen peroxide, to make the Magic Skunk Elixir. And here in Bumblefuck, Michigan, the 24-hour supermarket decided recently to start closing at 11 p.m. There aren’t even 24-hour gas stations here.
I gave him a bath, and used the smelliest, perfumiest shampoo I could find in the house. It helped a little. He didn’t like his bath at all. And I’m glad.
This was not what I wanted to do when I got home tonight.
Stinky is laying next to me right now, looking morose and smelling like Clairol Herbal Essenses honeysuckle, jasmine and skunk funk.
Bad dog, Thor!
That was bad!
Bad, bad dog!