Curse of the Skunk

Warning: this blog contains gross descriptions.  Do not read if you are eating.

When one is a parent, pet owner, cat breeder or just responsible for the care of others, there will be no shortage of challenging moments or messes to clean up.  You learn to go with the flow, accept the yin with the yang, cuteness and poop.  As pet owners, we sacrifice a bit of cleanliness, money, and orderliness for the love and completeness we feel by sharing our homes with furry creatures that have different agendas.  Raising children is similar up to a point; hopefully a child will continue to develop beyond the simple commands of “sit” and “stay,” learn to clean up her own messes, cost a lot more money, but in the end move out and live independently. 

We have two dogs; a 13-year-old Golden Retriever, Chardonnay, and a 3-year-old Shar-pei mix, Coraline “Cory.”  Cory is a high-energy gray bullet with a strong prey drive.  As a large, geriatric dog, Chardonnay moves more slowly and takes many naps, but still enjoys adventure in moderation.  Although her knees are weak, her hearing greatly diminished and her mind seems to have dementia, Chardonnay’s worst quality is that she has never lost her desire for coprophagia; she eats poop.   

Cory, on the other hand, is the subject of this blog.  We adopted Cory for Kelsey, who begged for a puppy for her 16^th birthday.  She promised to take full responsibility for the puppy; housebreaking, puppy kindergarten, clean up any messes, etc.  Well, you can imagine how long that lasted.  Cory’s person of choice is Jay, my husband.  I am the mean one who doesn’t allow jumping up, pawing, barking, or other unpleasant behavior.  Jay tells the dog to get down while petting her and wonders why she still has bad habits. 

Jay recently went on his annual salmon fishing trip to New Brunswick with his buddy, Curt.  The day Jay left, I noticed that Cory had a large, hard bump on her jaw.  It was about the diameter of a quarter.  Even though Cory didn’t act like she’d been stung by rubbing her face repeatedly and the bump was much bigger than normally associated with a bee sting, I just assumed she'd been stung and didn’t think much of it.  

The next day, the bump looked the same and I mentioned it to Jay when he called from Canada to tell me about his first catch.  By late afternoon, however, the bump had tripled in size.  I had just come home from spending way too much money at Bed, Bath and Beyond for window valances when I realized that I was going to have to take Cory to the vet.  I had a sinking feeling that I was going to need to return my purchases in order to pay a vet bill.  I was right. 

My vet, Dr. Karen Brown at Stonington Veterinary Hospital, said Cory had an abscess on her jaw from where she had punctured it on something like a sharp stick.  It was too hard to drain so I was instructed to watch for skin color changes that might warn of a rupture, apply hot compresses and give her antibiotics.  Most of my summer I’ve had to deal with Levi the cat’s staph infection on his tail, which also formed an abscess, burst, was stitched, burst, and is taking forever to heal.  I joked that Cory and Levi were going to have to share a room where they can swap abscess stories. 

Cory with her swollen face

 

Cory clearly didn’t feel well.  She had a fever and the right side of her face was swollen uncomfortably.  I dutifully applied a warm washcloth to her jaw and babied her throughout the day.  Shortly before the dogs’ supper time (5 pm and Chardonnay starts campaigning an hour earlier to be fed), I let the girls out.  Living out in the middle of the woods has the advantage of not needing a fenced-in yard or having to walk the dogs on a leash; we just open the back door and let them go.  Since they learned the parameters of the yard from the invisible fence collars, they no longer wear the collar.  It works, most of the time.  This time, however, Chardonnay managed to find her favorite cologne, Essence of Bambi (deer poop) and happily applied it liberally to her face and neck. 

Great.  All I wanted to do was feed the dogs and relax and now I had to wash the stench off the old girl’s head.  I took a bottle of dish detergent and led Chardonnay back out to the garden hose for a lecture on hygiene as tried to wash off the crap.  That accomplished, I fed the dogs, but Cory didn’t come over to eat.  I found her hiding and upset because her abscess has started to ooze all over the side of her chest, leg and neck.  Not able to reach the hole from which the bloody pus originated with her tongue, Cory obsessively tried to clean what she could. 

I called the vet to see if this needed immediate attention.   The vet tech, Sherri, asked me to see if I could facilitate the draining by squeezing Cory’s cheek.  So there I was, phone tucked between my shoulder and face, straddling a nervous dog, holding a wet washcloth against her swollen cheek and trying to find the right pressure points.  Finally, a glob about the size of a dime came out of the small puncture wound. 

“Gross!  This is disgusting!  My husband should be doing this.  Cory is HIS dog and he’s in Canada fishing!”  Sherri laughed and reminded me that I had probably seen a lot more disgusting things as a cat breeder.  True, unfortunately.   Since it was already about 6 pm, Sherri asked if I could bring Cory to the office in the morning so they could suture a drain in the poor pup's face. 

As I sacrificed a washcloth to blood and mucus, I became aware of an aroma coming off of Cory’s face; skunk.  Seven months after her last skunk encounter, the water still activated the smell.  Anyone who’s ever had a skunked dog is familiar with this. 

Then I had a thought; what if the poor skunk that had lost its life in Cory’s mouth last spring had cursed the dog with its final breath?  It could have planted an alien skunk seed under Cory’s skin which was now hatching.  I envisioned the dog as Sigourney Weaver impregnated by an alien, but this time a skunk head (I hoped not the tail) would emerge from the side of our dog’s face.  It would be an extra mouth to feed, but think of the money we’d make on the talk show circuit.  Maybe we’d even get our own reality show, “Cory and Stinky - Two Heads, Two Species, One Body”.

The next morning, I took our grandson to school, a kitten to my other vet to be spayed 35 minutes in the opposite direction, then came home to get Cory and drove her to Stonington.  A lot of veterinary chauffeuring, but I got it all done. 

When I picked Cory up after her procedure, her swelling was mostly gone and she had a rubber tube which protruded from two places behind her jaw, vertically up, through her cheek then out the bottom near to where her original wound was.  She looked a lot happier, but weird.  I had already told my vet about my alien skunk theory, but when I saw the drain, I started joking about blowing in one end so Cory could make bubbles in her water bowl or taking her snorkeling.  My vet has concluded that I have a strange sense of humor.  Poor Cory.  She had gone through hell week and all I could do was make fun of her. 

Cory with her drainage tube. Note the tube goes through her skin and exits below her jaw.

By the time Jay came home Saturday night, Cory’s drain had been removed and other than a couple of residual holes in her face, she looked normal and very happy to see her favorite human.  Just a regular week here in the land of fur and feathers.

Tell Me Why We Have Dogs Again?

Finally the snow has melted enough for us to take a hike on the trail in the woods behind our house. We have over three acres and our property backs onto a park, leaving us lots a privacy and a wonderful place to walk our dogs, Chardonnay and Coraline "Cory". Jay and I love to walk in the woods right after a snow fall, but this winter the snow had gotten so deep, traveling where it wasn’t shoveled was difficult for the past month or two. Having warmed up to a relatively balmy 35 degrees, it was time to take the dogs and ourselves out for some overdue exercise. 

The trail is a big circle, about 2 miles total, and isolated enough that the dogs enjoy running off leash, tracking down scents, then checking back with us every few minutes. Chardonnay is 13-year-old Golden Retriever. Coraline is a 3-year-old Shar-pei mix, a smoke-colored mutt with the speed of greyhound. Although Chardonnay is on medication for her knee and has slowed down considerably over the past couple of years, she still loves to run. 

About half-way around, I noticed that even with the cold temperatures, there was standing water. Big problem when you have a Golden who prefers cooling off in stinky black mud.  I was just about to recommend that we call the dogs back so Chardonnay could be led past the temptation of water when we heard Cory barking excitedly. Oh crap. Someone else is walking back here, I thought. The barking became high-pitched and more frantic; Jay started jogging ahead toward the sound. 

Chardonnay the mud puppy

“A skunk!” he yelled. Well, you know what happened next. The theory is that skunks spray to defend themselves from predators. Too bad it didn’t deter Cory the skunk killer. She broke the poor skunk’s neck, killing it immediately. Chardonnay was close enough to take a good hit. Having been through this once before, I stayed away from the crime scene and let my husband try to get the dogs away from the dead skunk. I wanted to avoid walking through the haze and having the stench cling to me too. 

I finally grabbed Cory’s collar to keep her from running back to her prize, getting the skunk’s blood that was on the dog’s mouth all over my hand. Don’t worry, you can only get rabies from saliva or brain tissue of an infected animal. Our dogs are up-to-date on their shots so they're protected.

The last time the dogs got skunked I had to deal with it by myself since Jay had just had hernia surgery that same day. This time, I was just a wee bit happy that Jay was getting the opportunity to learn all about skunk odor removal.  I offered to help him though with my expert advice, but was determined to allow him to do most of the work.

After a couple of dog baths, wiping down surfaces, mopping wherever they walked in the house, washing clothes and bedding, taking showers and still smelling skunky, it was supper time. Chinese take-out.

I posted a picture of our trouble makers after their baths, looking damp and innocent, on Facebook and asked, “Remind me why we have dogs again?”

The Killer and the Accomplice

As far as I know, even outdoor cats know better than to challenge a skunk. Hell, I've seen pictures of cats and skunks eating out of the same bowl. Dogs are known for pursuing all things bad for them; skunks, porcupines and cars. They will do it even after being hurt or suffering the sting of skunk spray in the face.  They just don’t seem to learn from their mistakes. 

So I started thinking, I have always liked both species, dogs and cats. Each has its pros and cons.  These are some that I came up with: 

You don’t have to wash your hands after petting a cat to get rid of the cat smell.

Dogs rarely vomit up things for you to step in when you least expect it.

Cats don’t eat poop, nor do they roll in the poop or on the dead carcasses of others.

Dogs will often clean up cat vomit for you.  Very helpful.

More people are allergic to cats than dogs. Hey, I’m allergic to both,but I got shots. 

Cats don’t embarrass you by sniffing the crotches of your guests.

Cats don’t deter robbers (unless you have Maine Coon whose size may well convince a burglar you keep wild cats)

Dog vet visits cost a lot more due to extra blood tests for Lyme disease and heartworms.  The cost of spaying a dog is much more than a cat, especially for the larger dogs.

When it comes to traveling, meeting strangers, outdoor activities with their humans, and being trained for a profession such as guiding, hunting, police work or pulling sleds, dogs rule. 

Cats can hide just about anywhere in your house.

Some cats are so good at playing invisible that your friends and family may never know you have one.

One of the selling points of a Maine Coon cat is that it is “dog-like”, meaning it is a gregarious breed.

Dogs are way easier to medicate than a cat. 

Cats are more likely to get on your counter tops, tables and surfaces which have breakable objects.

There are always exceptions

 

Cats may use your large potted plants as a litter box. 

Dogs may rip your potted plants out of the pot and sling dirt all over the floor (which the cat will then use as a litter box).

Cats have been known to shred upholstery and rugs.

Dogs have been known to rip down dry wall, eat the crotch out of underwear, chew stairs, table legs and numerous other non-edible objects.

An 8-week-old kitten is cute and taught itself to use a litter box about three weeks ago.

 

               An 8-week-old puppy is cute, but has no bladder control.

 

Dogs that bark a lot are very annoying and will make your neighbors hate you.

It’s rare for a neighbor to complain about your cat, especially if you keep it inside. 

Infection from cat bites can be dangerous, but a dog is capable of maiming or killing a human.

Conversely, dogs are also more likely than a cat to save a human’s life. 

Dogs offer unconditional love to their humans.

Cats offer their love when you’re trying to do something else, like sleep, read, type on the computer or use the bathroom.

Cats can (and should) be kept exclusively indoors because they can use a litter box in the house.  Dogs have never mastered this skill. For this reason, cats are more convenient pets than dogs.

Some people find the chore of scooping a cat’s litter box repulsive. These are the same people who don’t clean up after their dogs.

And finally, although it’s not recommended, dogs can help you clean the cat’s litter box.

So cute and innocent. For now.

 To further illustrate the differences between cats and dogs, watch this YouTube video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GbycvPwr1Wg

 

It Stinks Being an Empty Nester

This past weekend was an emotional one as we moved Kelsey into her dorm at Lyndon State College in Vermont.  A lot of anxiety on Kelsey’s part, employing our abilities to be carriers of heavy objects up three flights of stairs, coaches and cheerleaders, but we got through it.  Now to face the reality of our new role as Empty Nesters.   After twenty-two years of centering my life around those of my children, what to do?

Monday morning.  Jay is scheduled for an umbilical hernia repair at Pequot Medical Center at 6:30 am.  He conveniently waited until after Kelsey’s move-in date.  A minor procedure, one I reminded him that I’ve had done on the occasional kitten at the same time it goes in to be spayed or neutered.  The kittens bounce right back, so a week of sick leave seems like overkill.  Nonetheless, I met the doctors beforehand and was asked if I would be waiting or wanted to be called.  Hmmm.  Would I have enough time to do some necessary grocery shopping, including driving home to put the food away?  The store, the medical center, and our house were all within a ten minute drive.  Absolutely, the nurse told me.

As I rounded the aisles at Stop n’ Shop, it was a bittersweet feeling.  For the first time in two years, I was able to freely select food that had gluten in it.   Both of my children have Celiac Disease so their gluten free diet has changed my approach to shopping and dining.  I splurged and picked up some deli rolls.  I also got a package of tilapia, not because it’s a gluten-containing fish, but because Kelsey is a picky eater.  We now have more options for our dinner table without kids to consider. 

I quickly finished shopping and got home, letting the dogs out for a quick potty break while I put groceries away.  It had been an hour and a half since I’d left my husband in his johnnie and paper shower cap so I figured I had just enough time to get back.  The nurse called then and said Jay was just getting out, take my time.  I said I’d be there in ten minutes. 

I called the dogs, but they seemed to have disappeared.  I figured our Golden Oldie Chardonnay was trolling for treasures (chicken poop) and went outside to find them.  I didn’t see the dogs, but I smelled a distinct aroma…of skunk.  I heard our energetic young mutt Cory barking down the driveway by the stone wall and I knew.  We were skunked.

It’s never convenient for your dogs to challenge a skunk, but when you’re trying to get back to the medical center, you don’t have time to deal with two stinky dogs.  This is the first I’ve ever had to deal with a skunked dog and I did what most people would do…I freaked.  All I knew was that I needed to leave, but what to do with the dogs?  Cory was rubbing her face on the door mat, her muzzle covered in a path of slobber from the irritating spray.  There was no doubt she’d been sprayed head on.  I wiped her eyes with a wet paper towel and put her in her crate.  At least that should keep the little instigator from contaminating anything else, I thought.  Chardonnay didn’t seem to have taken a direct hit.  I don’t have a crate for her anyway so I had to take my chances. 

Remembering the nurse telling me to take my time, I figured I’d use an extra 15 minutes to visit Pet Supplies Plus for some magic skunk odor remover rather than drag Jay with me in a drugged-up state.  I got there right as the doors were opening, desperation in my eyes, skunk smell on my clothes.  They were out of de-skunker.  Now I not only felt rushed, but I was irritated with the world.   Everyone was in my way, the lights were all red, and I stank.  My car stank.  Obviously, one can be victimized by a skunk just by walking through the invisible mist they leave floating in the air.  I received a text from Kelsey, letting me know that she needed me to mail her bobby-pins (the good kind), tank tops, her hair dryer and an assortment of other needs.  I took a moment to tell her to get a ride with her roommate and go shopping for herself.

I was so distracted by my skunk thoughts, that I missed the turn for the medical center and didn’t realize it until a couple of miles later.  My exasperation screamed as I turned the car around.  I’ve only been to Pequot a million times (usually for Kelsey), so how could I miss it?  Once there, I was escorted back to my groggy husband who was holding an ice pack to his belly.  He looked up as I walked in.  “I smell skunk.” 

“Funny thing happened while you were in surgery.”

The nurse helped Jay into our van and poked her head in.  “Oh yeah, I can smell it.”

As I pulled into our driveway, Tyler called, panicking because he thought his student loan was still messed up.  Not a good time.  It’ll be okay.  Whatever happened to not having to deal with children?

After I got Jay upstairs and settled into bed, I set back out in search of de-skunking solution.  Petco was also out; not a good sign when the manager said he’s been trying to get more in for two weeks.  PetSmart, my third attempt, had two bottles of Natures Miracle De-skunker left.  I bought both.

I tied the dogs out and covered them in the solution, roughly scrubbing Cory and lecturing her that maybe the shivering cold well water from the hose would teach her to leave pretty black and white rodents alone.  After the baths, my back was killing me and my jeans were soaked, but I was relieved to find that at least the de-skunker solution worked.   The dogs didn’t even smell doggy.

Next, I had to tackle the smell in the house, but it was hard to tell what part of that came from my own clothes and what was from a dog touching various surfaces.  I left my clothes outside as the washing machine was already occupied by the dog bed and the door mat, mopping the floor in my skivvies wherever the dogs’ path had crossed.  I even used the Nature’s Miracle on the back door and my purse.   After I finally showered, I was able to breathe more freely.

From the bed, Jay expressed feeble remorse that he wasn’t able to help me bathe the dogs and de-stink the house.  I was so taking his Percocet with a shot of vodka after this. 

Coraline the Skunk Hunter