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.
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| Coraline the Skunk Hunter |
