Woodchuck Martinis

  Chapter 11

  Smelling Up the Place

  Just when things were going along at a comfortable pace something happened to stink the place up...literally.

  My son Josh came over to help with some yard work this afternoon. I had asked him to rake leaves and take out some unwanted bushes from the front yard. I explained that I couldn’t help him because I had just lined up a new account and had a tight deadline to meet in order to secure the job. I gave him a list of things I wanted to have done and went back to work in my home office.

  “Don’t take Bella out with you,” I said as his dog whined at his feet. “Since you’ll be driving the car in the yard I don’t want her getting hurt.”

  Things were going along quite well as I checked out the window of my office occasionally and saw that he was making great progress. However in spite of my advice not to take his dog out, Bella, a mostly Kentucky Red Tick mutt, was thrilled to have someone out in “her yard” to entertain her.

  I had returned to work for quite a while when I heard Josh fire off a series of expletives that would bring red to the cheeks of a sailor.

  “Oh, Bella,” I heard Josh moan through the open window. “Oh, God, Bella! No, Bella. Oh, no, Bella!”

  My first thought was that he had run over the dog with his car and I really didn’t want to go out to see the damage. However when I got outside I saw Bella running around, tail wagging, a big, sloppy smile on her face, and rather large amounts of goo dripping from her jowls.

  I looked from Bella to Josh trying to figure out what had happened. Josh was standing in the garage clearly trying his best to keep his gag reflex from going into overdrive.

  “Josh, what’s the matter?” I said.

  “It’s Bella,” Josh said as his gag reflex triggered again and he literally choked the words out. He couldn’t say anything more because he was trying so hard not to throw up. By this time he was doubled over looking like I had during the wee hours of the morning following my 21st birthday after visiting a half dozen drinking establishments who “treated” me to my first legal drinks.

  I looked closely at Bella who stood in the garage doorway but I could see no blood. She wasn’t limping and didn’t appear to be in any pain. Frankly I hadn’t seen her looking that happy since she had caught her first squirrel after waiting patiently for hours at the base of a tree.

  And then the stench settled into my nostrils and I knew what had happened before Josh gagged one more time and explained.

  “Bella killed a skunk.” He literally choked on the words, bent over, and gagged again.

  I should explain that Josh was born with a hair trigger gag reflex and has always been a bit sensitive about it. I’m not sure what it is about it...whether it’s the retching sound or the look on his face while it’s happening...but his gag reflex has always made me laugh. It’s a horrible thing to admit as a mom. This has never gone over well with Josh as there really is nothing funny about it...at least to him. To me it’s just always been a great source of slapstick.

  This goes way, way back for Josh and I. When he was three years old I was feeding Jessie spinach from a baby food jar. I had given up early in Josh’s life trying to feed him things like cooked spinach or foods with similar textures due to his gag reflex. Inevitably the food would find its way into his mouth, especially following my advice that he not try it, and would be immediately projectiled in a mass that would require a change of his clothes, the use of heavy-duty carpet cleaner, and more often than not a change of my clothes as well. And no matter how many times this happened over the years it continued to entertain me. I would always, without fail, laugh uncontrollably. Maybe because I spent so much time trying to warn him not to put these things in his mouth and he spent so much time showing me that he was in control of the situation and put them in anyway.

  “What’s that?” my three-year-old son asked, pointing to the gooey, green substance his sister was eating.

  “It’s spinach,” I answered.

  “Just like Popeye eats?” he asked.

  “Yes, just like Popeye eats,” I said.

  “Can I have some?” he asked.

  “I don’t think you’ll like it,” I answered honestly.

  “But it’s good for me, right?”

  “Yes, it’s good for you.”

  “And Popeye likes it, right?”

  “Yes, Popeye likes it.”

  “And it makes Popeye strong, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Jessie likes it, too,” Josh reasoned.

  “Yes, Jessie likes it too,” I answered.

  “Then I’ll like it.”

  “I really don’t think you will,” I said, “but if you really want to try it you can.”

  Josh helped himself to a generous spoonful of Popeye’s favorite food and before he could put it in his mouth I moved my chair back out of his projectile field. By this time I had it down to a science and knew exactly how far that food would fly. And to only Josh’s surprise the spinach came back at about the same velocity you might see a meteor approaching earth’s atmosphere. As I cleaned up the mess I was laughing uncontrollably, and even Josh had to laugh that day as our yellow lab, Odie, was covered in globs of green goo; such is the life of the family dog.

  “Where’s the skunk?” I asked this morning, still trying my best to suppress a laugh.

  “In the front yard,” he said, still trying his best to suppress his gag reflex. He pointed near the bushes where he had been working a few moments ago.

  Josh then explained that Bella had chased down the skunk, caught it, and then proceeded to shake it madly to break its neck. As she brandished the dastardly vermin, skunk goo spewed first on Josh and then on his car. He tried to stop the dog by shouting but she thought it was a game. She then tossed the animal in the air, caught it expertly, and shook it fiercely, just doing what a hunting dog was meant to do. As she swung it again more skunk spray covered Josh and left another layer on his car, finding its way in through the open car windows and into the trunk which had been left open so he could load the bags of brush. She had done it again and again, being the efficient hunting dog she is, covering Josh, his car, the yard tools, and the brush piles.

  “Where’s the skunk now?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Josh said.

  I was a woman on a mission. I grabbed the pool skimmer and headed out in search of the source of the stench which had covered everything in our neighborhood and beyond.

  I found the skunk, looking a bit like one of Bella’s stuffed animals, and gave it a sturdy poke with the skimmer. To my surprise the smelly little bugger winked at me like we shared the most intimate of secrets. My mind began to race with possible scenarios if this critter was to suddenly come to life. I imagined the skunk jumping up and sinking his fangs into my calf and simultaneously spraying me in the face while I tried desperately to shake his relentless grip from my extremity. I gasped and turned to run from what my mind had defined as a tiny rabid beast and plowed right into Josh just as he let out a girlie scream followed by another retching sound that catapulted me into a fit of unrestrained laughter. I watched as Josh backed away from the slightly conscious skunk and finally lost his cookies.

  I got myself under control when Josh looked up and gave me the stink eye reminding me that I was really the only one who had found humor in this situation.

  “What do we do with him?” I asked Josh.

  “You mean what do YOU do with him!” Josh said.

  “He’s obviously in pain. We can’t just leave him there. That’s cruel.” I said sheepishly hoping Josh would man up and take care of it.

  “He needs to be put out of his misery,” he agreed, hoping I’d man up and take care of it.

  “I’m not going to kill it,” he said quite adamantly.

  “Well, I CAN’T kill it,” I said determined to hold my ground.

  “What do you mean you CAN’T kill it?” he
said.

  “It’s just too icky. I just can’t.” I said folding my arms.

  Just then Josh’s girlfriend Cathie drove up.

  “Oh, my God,” she said, getting out of her car. “Josh, you smell just like a skunk!”

  “Well, aren’t you the sly detective!” Josh said.

  “You probably don’t want to get too close,” I said to Cathie. “The skunk isn’t quite dead yet. We’re trying to decide how to finish him off.”

  “That’s easy,” Cathie offered. “Just drown him.”

  “You make it sound so simple,” I said. “How could you drown a sweet little face like that?”

  “I’ll show you,” Cathie said. “I swear, you two are such wimps!”

  She walked over to our garbage can, lifted the lid, placed the garden hose in, and turned it on. After a few minutes she took the pool skimmer from me, scooped up poor little Pepe Lapew, and dropped him into the barrel. On the way into the can he gave his eradicator the stink eye and I was pretty sure Cathie would be cursed forever more. That’s some bad juju, I thought. In my mind taps were being played. She held the skunk down for a few minutes and then watched him surface again. She poked him a few times to make sure that he wouldn’t get a second wind.

  “Just call him Bob,” she giggled as she watched the rodent float in the garbage can.

  “You’re my hero,” I said to Cathie.

  “How do I get this nasty stench off of me and my car?” Josh asked.

  “The only way I know,” I answered, “is tomato juice.”

  “Cathie,” Josh said, “would you mind going to the store to pick some up for me?”

  “I’d love to,” Cathie said, “but I’m late for class and I’ve got to go. I’d kiss you good bye, Josh, but frankly you reek.”

  “Thanks loads,” Josh pouted as he watched her drive away.

  “Mom,” Josh said, turning to me, “can you go pick up the tomato juice for me?”

  “I’m sorry, Josh,” I said quite honestly. “You know I have a tight deadline to meet and I just can’t break away. Besides if you’ll think back to the last thing I said before you left to do the yard work I asked you not to bring the dog outside. If you had done as I asked, none of this would have happened.”

  “I can’t go into the grocery store smelling like this,” he protested. “I’m an offense to human decency standards.”

  I wholeheartedly agreed with him, but if I took off even the half hour required for the trip to the store I would have missed my deadline, and I couldn’t risk the new account.

  “I really am sorry, Josh,” I reiterated. “I just can’t do it.”

  After a few choice words mumbled under his breath Josh got into his stench mobile and headed out. I had a mental image of my son standing in the aisles looking much like the Peanuts character, Pigpen, with flies buzzing all around him.

  After a while I heard his car in the driveway and ran outside.

  “Josh,” I said as he climbed out of his car. “Please don’t come into the house until you can smell yourself without triggering your gag reflex. That should be a great indicator of when it’s safe to come back in.”

  “That’s nice,” he said, “shunned from my home like a leper...which is exactly the way I felt at the store. I think the paint was actually peeling from the walls around me. Some kid’s eyes were actually watering and she asked her mom why the store smelled so bad. Her mom looked at me suspiciously but I sniffed the air and gave the same look to a guy picking up a can of beans.”

  Josh handed me the bag he’d brought from the grocery store but it felt significantly smaller than I had expected. Upon closer inspection I realized that he had picked up several cans of tomato paste, not tomato juice.

  “I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news, Josh,” I said as sympathetically as I could. “You’re going to have to go back to the store to get tomato juice, not tomato paste.”

  “Oh, God, I can’t,” he moaned. “I just can’t. If you could have seen the look on that poor child’s face you wouldn’t even suggest that I go back. I’ll bet the store manager is calling his insurance company as we speak to get an estimate on the damage to the paint on the walls!”

  Just then our neighbor, Tim, stepped outside.

  “Hey,” he shouted from his front door, his nose pinched closed with his forefinger and thumb. “I heard you’re out here playing with a skunk.”

  “Yeah, Tim,” I said. “We’re having a grand old time with the wildlife again.”

  “I’ve heard that Simple Green is great for deodorizing skunk smell. You might want to give it a try...and soon...You’re stinking up the neighborhood, Josh!” He gave a hearty belly laugh as he had clearly entertained himself with his own clever pun.

  “That’s just TOO funny,” Josh said, sarcasm oozing out.

  “Thanks, Tim,” I said, and I genuinely meant it.

  “Josh,” I said. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’ll need to go to the store again.”

  “I just can’t go there again,” Josh said.

  “Josh, if I lose this new account I won’t be able to make ends meet. It’s that simple. The way I see it you have two choices. You can smell like this forever or you can make one more run to the store. It’s entirely up to you.”

  “This whole thing just really stinks!” he said before he realized he was following Tim’s suit. He opened up his car, rolled down all of the windows, and drove to the store, no doubt sulking all the way.

  It took him a good solid couple of hours to treat the dog, his car, and himself but the Simple Green proved to be nearly miraculous in its results.

  Tonight after I had finished all of the work for the new account, I made a run to the grocery store to buy a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia to celebrate the acquisition of my new contract. I happened to walk through the canned vegetable aisle and overheard two little boys arguing.

  “Jonathan,” said the larger child, “Why’d you cut the cheese in the store?”

  “I didn’t do it,” Jonathan said, sounding quite indignant. “You did and you’re trying to blame me so mom will get mad!”

  “Mom,” Jonathan whined, “Robert’s lying again! He cut the cheese and is trying to blame me!”

  Their mom sniffed the air and put an end to the argument.

  “Neither one of you cut the cheese,” she said playing the role of referee as we so often do, “it smells more like skunk.”

  Perhaps it was just my imagination but I think the paint really was peeling off the walls in the aisle near the cans of tomato paste.

  ****