There's a first time for everything, as the old saying goes. Some first times are good. Some first times ... not so much.
I got home over the weekend from a wonderful vacation in Maine, relaxed and refreshed and ready to take on the challenges of autumn. Harry went with me, of course, and he too was glad to be home and back in his fenced-in yard. The first thing he did was race in circles and chase away rabbits and squirrels who had taken up residence in his absence. He didn't catch any (I'm happy to report) but he certainly gave them something to think about now that the Little Prince Of The Lawn has returned.
We weren't in town an hour before I heard him making strange noises out back. He's always a bit aggressive with the neighborhood fauna that drifts into his fence, but this was different. It wasn't exactly a sound of pain, nor was it a sound of triumph. More like angry freaking out. The back door was open and just as I was getting up to see what was happening he came roaring into the house soaking wet. I'd like to say it was raining. I'd like to say he fell into a puddle. I'd like to say just about anything other than the truth: Harry had encountered his first skunk.
My poor dog got sprayed smack in the face: in his eyes, up his nose, down his throat. He went purely crazy, rolling around on the carpet and charging through the rooms, spreading ghastly skunk oil everywhere he went. I finally trapped him in the library and rushed him to the tub, where I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. There was no time to look online to find out the right thing to do, there was only time to try to get him some relief. He shook himself a dozen times, spraying water and smell all over the place. My clothes were drenched. My house reeked of skunk. And after it was all said and done, in spite of all the scrubbing, so did Harry.
(By the way, the "right" thing to do, per later Internet research, is a combination of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and dish soap. I used baking soda, white vinegar, and dog soap. Live and learn.)
That was Sunday. It's now Tuesday. After several more dog baths, lots of fans, lots of fragrant candles, lots of mopping, and lots of laundry, things are pretty much back to normal. I can still detect a faint scent in the house, although a friend stopped by today and assured me he didn't smell skunk in the air. He sniffed Harry and announced "I don't smell anything!" until he buried his face in Harry's neck. "Oh yeah, I smell that," he muttered, which is why Harry's been sleeping in his cage the last two nights instead of at my side in bed. I think we have a few more cage-nights to go until the smell is completely gone, and after a couple of more baths. I haven't tried the hydrogen peroxide method yet because both Harry and I have about had it with the bathing ritual. Maybe tomorrow, if the necksmell persists ...
I'm hoping my Harry's first encounter with a skunk has taught him a big lesson, which is to chase squirrels with effervescence but to leave the big black and white critters alone. This was also my first encounter with a skunked pet. Not bad after 58 years. Let's hope it's my (and Harry's) last.