Stinker!

I was gassed! I had just returned from an evening “stroll” with Laurie. Before that, my wife had put in a full day of work at the college, watered her vegetable garden, mowed the neighbor’s yard, weeded her flower beds, and then wanted to “get some exercise.” Laurie is a 5’9”, 115 lb. Wonder Woman, whose goal is to complete as many tasks and chores as she possibly can from dawn to dusk. Let me assure you, Laurie does not just walk; her pace is more of a lope---she covers a lot of ground in a short period of time. I trail along, just off her right shoulder, listening to how her day went and trying not to fall by the wayside. I try to participate in the conversation, but I am mostly concerned with maintaining oxygen flow.

I too had put in a full day at the Trading Post and Cafe, then worked with the Boy Scouts on a service project. Because the three other Scoutmasters I generally share duties with were either out of town, down for the count, or overloaded with other responsibilities, I thought that I was going to have to postpone our project. At the last minute, Scouter extraordinaire Robert Turk and his wife Valarie came into the cafe for dinner. I recruited his services on the spot. Robert and I had survived a raucous crew of eleven-year-old boys wielding chainsaws, axes, and mauls for over an hour and, amazingly, had come away with all our digits. The boys were alive and well and not one parent had phoned to complain, so I was ready to call it a night---but Laurie was not!

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Laurie and I set out upon our trek. We toured the town, waving, shouting greetings and good-natured jests at friends and neighbors as we went. It was a gorgeous evening; the temperature was in the mid-seventies and deep purple cloud formations with frothy peach edges colored by the bent rays of the setting sun raced by overhead. A huge, dark thunderhead flashed and threatened to overtake us from the southeast. The smell of rain, summer barbecue, and freshly cut grass carried on a velvety breeze. Crickets chirped, Katydid’s did their thing, and dogs barked as we passed. Other than the pace Laurie was setting, all was well with the world. By the time we made it back to the house I was worn out, but thoroughly contented.

I fell into the folding chase lounge on our back porch and wiped the sweat from my brow. Laurie went into the house to dry some fruit or can something, while I relaxed back into the woven fabric. I took out my phone and contemplated texting Steve to tell him I was all in and would not be to work on the morrow. He would have to manage the managers, engage the employees, and coax customers all by himself. Nah! I thought again. Twin Rocks is a wonderful place to work and play, and the people there are great and always interesting. I turned to my Instagram account and began checking up on my connections there. As I scanned through the people I follow, I heard a crunching sound. Looking up, I witnessed, not 8 feet from where I rested, a young skunk munching away at the kibbles Laurie puts out for her cats.

“Oh my, my, oh my, my, can you boogie, can you slide?” I thought to myself, “What would Ringo do in this situation?” I considered raising myself up and out of that chair, then vaulting the brick wall which surrounds the porch, but thought again because doing so might scare and set the darn thing off. The house was wide open and the stink would last for weeks. I was cornered. What came into my head was, “Ringo would coo a melody.” So, I croaked out a coarse, whispered, “Pepe', Pepe' LaPew, please do not cause a stink.” The adorable little fellow looked up and saw me there, raised his tail a fraction, stepped back, and considered me carefully, stepped forward and took another nibble then bounded away, exiting stage left through the carport, leaving not a drop of scent behind. Whew, too close!

In the culture of the Navajo, Skunk is an uncommonly bright fellow, he outsmarted all of the smaller creatures and the wily and chaotic Coyote who tried to steal his supper. I was lucky to have escaped unscathed from the odiferous beastie, but I have to admit I was a bit miffed with my wife for leaving cat food out because it attracts these foul critters and is easy to access. I went inside and showed Laurie the video I had taken of my encounter and expressed my frustration at her lack of consideration for my safety and well-being.

I told Laurie that if that skunk had of let loose on me I would have searched her out and shared that omnipotent “ode de cologne” with her. “I thought you’re smarter than that,’” quipped my wife casually. “That would not have been a wise move.” Stepping back and peering into the seriousness of those sage green eyes and considering my options, I thought it best to exit, as did the skunk, stage left. The lesson here is that both skunks and exceptional women have a way of keeping you in your place (AND being real stinkers.) Oh my, my.