I might as well tell another skunk story.
A Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic
My dad is one of the most softhearted men you would ever want to meet when it comes to animals. He would never, ever launch a cat, or intentionally go into attack mode against an unwitting/unwilling skunk. As a matter of fact, he is the Johnny Appleseed if you will of distraught and disabled animals of any persuasion. I have numerous stories to tell revolving around animals in our home while I was growing up. This one is about our PET skunk.
My dad worked for nearly 40 years at compressor stations pumping natural gas out of the gasfields of Montana. He worked shift work rotating from days, to midnight’s, to afternoons, and his duties varied depending upon the shift he was working that week. Regardless of shift however, a primary duty was to take hourly readings on the compressors and gas lines to insure that everything was working safely and properly. Most of the meters were inside the plant, however a few were on the outside by necessity. One midnight shift while he was making his mandatory rounds taking the readings, once he stepped outside of the main plant to read the meters outside the plant, he noticed a crow pecking at something under one of the lights outside the external meter house. It kind of raised his curiosity, and upon closer inspection, he discovered the crow was pecking at a baby (very small) skunk. Not wishing to see this happen, he chased the crow off, rescued the skunk, took it into the plant and put it into a box next to the compressors to keep it warm, and brought it home to nurse back to health when he got off work. So began a great adventure!
My mother was somewhat concerned about this particular decision of my fathers, however, who in their right mind can not fall in love with a baby skunk ... so it wasn't long until moms objections melted into a series of oh my Larry, he is cute, Ok you can keep him. Of course, us boys were as excited as could be. I suppose you could say this skunk held about the same level of appeal to us boys as a new XBox would to boys today.
Due to the misdeeds of the attack crow, the skunk had one eye pecked out, and seriously needed the attention and affection of my dad who saw himself as a home-schooled veterinarian. We cared for that skunk as though it were a puppy .. taking time to bottle-feed it a drop at a time off the tip of our finger, and gradually the skunk recovered his health, and began to grow.
Now domesticated skunks make wonderful pets, they are somewhat like cats, only less offensive, less arrogant, and more affectionate by far. Us boys loved that skunk ... I used to love to lay on the floor and watch television and play with the skunk. He would tease you, jump in the middle of your chest, kind of paw on your chest to let you know he was there, then turn very fast, lift his tail and give you the skunk equivalent of a high five just for fun.
My dad never had the heart to have the skunk de-scented, so once he was fully grown, he could have at any moment let us have it for real ... fortunately he never did, even though he pretended to often. I honestly believe that even though the instinct was there, he hadn't been taught by his mother to spray ... yet he knew there was something he was capable of doing but just wasn't quite sure how to do it ... yet. In spite of this lack of the specific knowledge, he still exhibited the defensive posturing of skunkdom, raising his tail at every opportunity while aiming his butt at the object of his teasing. There in lay the problem!
One day, I was home from school sick with a terrible cold. My mom wouldn't often let us out of our rooms when we stayed home from school, but for some reason this particular day, she had pity on me and I was laying on the couch watching television. Suddenly, there was a knock on our front door, a signal to our skunk to come running. Without thinking, I just said come-in, and the man threw open the front door only to be confronted by a full grown skunk, tail raised, and poised to strike at the slightest provocation. At least, that was his take on the situation I am sure. Now, in my heart of hearts, I am certain our skunk would not have let him have it ... he was just being friendly ya know. But, Steve Urs (the man at the door) did not see it that way. God y’all, it was sooooooo funny, the man was petrified. He was so still you could have sworn that time stopped, and he was whiter than Casper the Ghost the blood having instantly and I do mean instantly drained from his upper extremities.
I would imagine Steve was VERY relieved when my mom came in and shooshed the skunk away rescuing him from what he viewed as a fate approaching death no doubt. Later that evening (once my dad came home from work) my mom convinced my dad that eventually, the skunk would make a mistake, and gave him an ultimatum ... either have the skunks scent glands removed, or turn him loose. My dad, being a consummate naturalist and soft hearted to boot ... decided it was in the skunks best interests to be returned to the wild, and so the following day ... the skunk went back out to the plant and returned to the place of his birth.
You know, as an added bit of information that I sincerely hope you consider carefully. Even though my dog Shatzie had previously suffered grievously at the hands of a skunk, he still got along famously with our pet skunk. The two of them would lay side by side next to one of us boys as though they too were brothers. Wouldn't it be wonderful if human beings could show the same character as these two animals and accept each other with no regard to past hurts, and in spite of their external (visible) differences. I for one, pray for the day when the skunks and the wiener dogs of the human species can gather together in friendship with no regard at all to their differences.
Later y’all ... may you never have a skunk raise his tail in your face in anger, but if one does, freeze, hold your breath and repeat after me "SWIZZLE DRIZZLE DRAZZLE DRONE, TIME FOR ZISS SKUNK TO GO HOME!"
My dad is one of the most softhearted men you would ever want to meet when it comes to animals. He would never, ever launch a cat, or intentionally go into attack mode against an unwitting/unwilling skunk. As a matter of fact, he is the Johnny Appleseed if you will of distraught and disabled animals of any persuasion. I have numerous stories to tell revolving around animals in our home while I was growing up. This one is about our PET skunk.
My dad worked for nearly 40 years at compressor stations pumping natural gas out of the gasfields of Montana. He worked shift work rotating from days, to midnight’s, to afternoons, and his duties varied depending upon the shift he was working that week. Regardless of shift however, a primary duty was to take hourly readings on the compressors and gas lines to insure that everything was working safely and properly. Most of the meters were inside the plant, however a few were on the outside by necessity. One midnight shift while he was making his mandatory rounds taking the readings, once he stepped outside of the main plant to read the meters outside the plant, he noticed a crow pecking at something under one of the lights outside the external meter house. It kind of raised his curiosity, and upon closer inspection, he discovered the crow was pecking at a baby (very small) skunk. Not wishing to see this happen, he chased the crow off, rescued the skunk, took it into the plant and put it into a box next to the compressors to keep it warm, and brought it home to nurse back to health when he got off work. So began a great adventure!
My mother was somewhat concerned about this particular decision of my fathers, however, who in their right mind can not fall in love with a baby skunk ... so it wasn't long until moms objections melted into a series of oh my Larry, he is cute, Ok you can keep him. Of course, us boys were as excited as could be. I suppose you could say this skunk held about the same level of appeal to us boys as a new XBox would to boys today.
Due to the misdeeds of the attack crow, the skunk had one eye pecked out, and seriously needed the attention and affection of my dad who saw himself as a home-schooled veterinarian. We cared for that skunk as though it were a puppy .. taking time to bottle-feed it a drop at a time off the tip of our finger, and gradually the skunk recovered his health, and began to grow.
Now domesticated skunks make wonderful pets, they are somewhat like cats, only less offensive, less arrogant, and more affectionate by far. Us boys loved that skunk ... I used to love to lay on the floor and watch television and play with the skunk. He would tease you, jump in the middle of your chest, kind of paw on your chest to let you know he was there, then turn very fast, lift his tail and give you the skunk equivalent of a high five just for fun.
My dad never had the heart to have the skunk de-scented, so once he was fully grown, he could have at any moment let us have it for real ... fortunately he never did, even though he pretended to often. I honestly believe that even though the instinct was there, he hadn't been taught by his mother to spray ... yet he knew there was something he was capable of doing but just wasn't quite sure how to do it ... yet. In spite of this lack of the specific knowledge, he still exhibited the defensive posturing of skunkdom, raising his tail at every opportunity while aiming his butt at the object of his teasing. There in lay the problem!
One day, I was home from school sick with a terrible cold. My mom wouldn't often let us out of our rooms when we stayed home from school, but for some reason this particular day, she had pity on me and I was laying on the couch watching television. Suddenly, there was a knock on our front door, a signal to our skunk to come running. Without thinking, I just said come-in, and the man threw open the front door only to be confronted by a full grown skunk, tail raised, and poised to strike at the slightest provocation. At least, that was his take on the situation I am sure. Now, in my heart of hearts, I am certain our skunk would not have let him have it ... he was just being friendly ya know. But, Steve Urs (the man at the door) did not see it that way. God y’all, it was sooooooo funny, the man was petrified. He was so still you could have sworn that time stopped, and he was whiter than Casper the Ghost the blood having instantly and I do mean instantly drained from his upper extremities.
I would imagine Steve was VERY relieved when my mom came in and shooshed the skunk away rescuing him from what he viewed as a fate approaching death no doubt. Later that evening (once my dad came home from work) my mom convinced my dad that eventually, the skunk would make a mistake, and gave him an ultimatum ... either have the skunks scent glands removed, or turn him loose. My dad, being a consummate naturalist and soft hearted to boot ... decided it was in the skunks best interests to be returned to the wild, and so the following day ... the skunk went back out to the plant and returned to the place of his birth.
You know, as an added bit of information that I sincerely hope you consider carefully. Even though my dog Shatzie had previously suffered grievously at the hands of a skunk, he still got along famously with our pet skunk. The two of them would lay side by side next to one of us boys as though they too were brothers. Wouldn't it be wonderful if human beings could show the same character as these two animals and accept each other with no regard to past hurts, and in spite of their external (visible) differences. I for one, pray for the day when the skunks and the wiener dogs of the human species can gather together in friendship with no regard at all to their differences.
Later y’all ... may you never have a skunk raise his tail in your face in anger, but if one does, freeze, hold your breath and repeat after me "SWIZZLE DRIZZLE DRAZZLE DRONE, TIME FOR ZISS SKUNK TO GO HOME!"
posted by webegeeks | 9:34 PM
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