Long Hollow

"…Ooh, that smell!

The smell of death surrounds you…"

~ Lynyrd Skynyrd

It punched me in the nose this morning, just as I stepped out the door and Belle jumped on me.

I knew that smell. I've lived in the country for a few years now, with country dogs. 

Country dogs like dead things. Did you know that?

Don't let this innocent face fool you.

They like to roll in dead things and sometimes drag them up close to the house, like treasured possessions.

Yeah, I know that smell, and I was sure there was something dead very close by.

I looked all through our little front yard. I looked in the woods just behind the porch swing. I looked in the dog beds, along the side porch, down near the dog house (do they have a whole deer down there?)

Nothing. 

How could that be? The smell came in waves, but it was strong when it hit me.

Ooh, that smell!

I finally gave up and headed up the path for our walk – and I still smelled it! It must be coming from the dogs; the nasty things must have rolled in something.

Ugh.

It wasn't until we had finished our walk and were gathered on the back deck for breakfast and bird-watching (a cardinal teased me from a nearby tree, but sure enough, as soon as he saw me go for my camera, he flew out of range)… anyway, that's when it finally hit me – along with another huge wave of acrid nastiness: it had nothing to do with a dead thing … they had been sprayed by a skunk!

In all the years we've lived out here, I've only seen one skunk (but lots of dead things), and that was fairly recently, back over the holidays. I guess he (or she) and the dogs finally got acquainted.

I'm just grateful Belle and Max are outside dogs – the smell is bad enough, but can you imagine trying to give two big dogs a tomato juice bath? Forget it!

Hope you had a happy, sweet-smelling Thursday!