So, it was bound to happen. Mr. Cooper got skunked last weekend. We were down at the cabin and I as I was cooking dinner I heard the door open and shut. Being that Johnny was down at the dock, I knew this meant trouble. Mr. Cooper can open the door with some force but rarely does it unless something really grabs his attention. Like an ‘effing skunk. He flew down the hill and into the bushes and I heard a ridiculous snarly ruckus. Before I could make it halfway down I saw the skunk wobble out from the bushes and haul ass in the opposite direction.
Then I saw Coop. Foamy mouthed and he looked somewhat sweaty. I found out quickly that this was the oil that shoots from the skunk itself. Bull’s-eye. The really awful thing was that this happened pretty late in the evening and we were 45 minutes from anywhere that would have any type of remedy. We’d also been cocktailing so driving wasn’t an option. Yes, we spent the night with the foul beast. For those of you that have smelled a skunked animal, you know how terrible this is. It is NOT at all like the smell on the side of the road when you pass a dead skunk. No. This is literally barf inducing.
So much for the romantic getaway we’d planned. Our night quickly became a silly game of hide and run from the poor dog who couldn’t comprehend why were suddenly shunning his affections.
The next day we drove 1.5 hours in my Jeep with all windows down on the interstate with said smelly ass dog in the back and attempted not to gag and/or puke down our shirts. It was a looooong ride. 6 baths later and he’s still got a funk about him but we’re getting there. He seems as over it as we are as you can ascertain from above photo.
So lesson learned. Sometimes love hurts, but sometimes it just stinks.