Last Thursday

Last Thurs sucked. For one thing, G and I were fighting and being generally snarly with each other. That always sucks. THEN, as we were getting ready for bed - still grumpy - around 10:30 (already getting late for us these days, since we get up before 6 every morning), I sent the dogs out in the backyard for one last potty run. Same old same old. It's usually pretty quick since the guys are almost always passed out somewhere already. But they seem to like the ritual, and go out, do their thing, and then get right back to bed. Except that on Thurs, they went racing out into the yard, barking and excited. Ocassionally, there's been some cat or another out there that freaks out when it sees them, climbs the tree, and then pretty much never comes onto our yard ever again. So I kind of expected it to be that and took a few more seconds than I should have following them out the door.

Well, it wasn't a cat. It was a skunk. And all three dogs were already cornering him against the fence by the time I saw him. Which means the skunk had nothing to do but spray. I called them all back. Mia, who's been skunked twice already in the last year, has finally gotten wise, it seems like, and backed away almost instantly. The other two, not so much. So before we knew it, Tucker was rolling around on the yard, acting totally uncomfortable; and Bandit was STILL running after the stupid skunk. Dude, she's 14 years old, what did she think she could do?

Anyway, the whole yard reeked so badly that we couldn't tell who smelled at first. Our smelly intruder hung around mauling our plants even after the dogs backed off. After awhile, we finally figured out what was what. Tucker got sprayed for sure and still reeks. He hasn't been allowed inside during the day and has been on lock down in the kitchen at night. Bandit got sprayed like crazy, but in a twist of good luck, most of the spray ended up on her cone. Never thought I'd be thankful that she has a skin infection and has to wear a cone to keep herself from chewing herself silly. Unfortunately, the not-so-complimentary cone from the vet . . . trashed.

By the time Tucker got the tomato treatment and we got to bed, it was after midnight. Which definitely did not make us any less grumpy. But we did manage to get some great shots of Tucker looking miserable. He seemed less demoralized than Mia did though. I think what's been harder for him is not being able to come inside. He's pretty much the one dog that follows me everywhere I go, and even sleeps curled up in the crook of my knees. (Believe me, that might sound adorable but its really just super uncomfortable). So for him to be locked out is HUGE. He does though seem to realize he stinks, so he hasn't whined as badly as we had feared he would (well, that could be the Benadryl we've been giving him too).

3 days later, he still reeks. Jumping around in that scummy pond we came across while hiking yesterday didn't help matters any. And the kitchen, where he's been mostly chilling is kind of unbearable.