A couple of weeks ago, I looked out our kitchen window and saw a little critter crawling under Jack's little playhouse in our backyard. My first reaction was, "What is that cute animal?" Then , realizing what it was, the fear of god came over me. Our dog Zoe, out in the yard doing her business, saw the nuclear stink bomb at the very same time. She started barking and running toward the playhouse and toward our potential odiferous doom. Your BloomingtonGirl quickly sprang into action and grabbed a little tupperware bowl, filled it with some kibbles and ran out the door. Sprinting across the lawn in my pajamas, shaking the cup and screaming "ZOE! COME!", I was a sight to behold. The lapse in personal vanity was worth it, though. Zoe was eventually lured into the house and danger was averted.
It soon became clear that the skunks - yes, plural...a mother and some babies - had set up house under our little playhouse. Reluctant to remove the critters myself for fear of getting sprayed, I called a professional. I called several, in fact, and left messages.
I got one return phone call from a guy who sounded right out of "Deliverance." Since nobody else had responded and we were getting kind of anxious about the situation, I made an appointment with the deliverance guy...
Unfortunately, it is getting late, so I must leave my loyal readers hanging. More over the weekend.