Maia Louise got out the other evening and led us all on a merry chase for several hours. David and I left to go to a local early evening concert and when we returned home, there was Maia, sitting sweetly on the walk by the kitchen door. She pretended to start up the steps with us but then dashed off once more with a wicked gleam in her eye. Frankly, I was in no mood and instead of playing her endless game of chase, I went inside, shut the door behind me and turned off the outside lights. I completely forgot about the two baby skunks that had been busying themselves in my kitchen garden for the past three nights. Forgotten that is until about two hours later when I smelled the blast right outside my windows. Edison went berserk and ran maniacally from door to door, begging to be let out so he could handle the skunk situation himself (yeah, right) and Bram kept pace though I'm not entirely sure he even knew what he was barking at (that's Brammy-doodle for you).
Sure enough, there was Maia sitting beneath the hedge around the corner from the kitchen door, and just four feet from her was one of the young skunks, each giving the other the hairy eyeball and neither daring to look away first. So with flashlight in hand to keep an eye on where that skunk was at all times, David and I spent the next 90 minutes trying to get the damn cat into the house. Nothing worked, and honestly, why should it? Maia knew very well that there was nothing nearly as exciting indoors as having a live skunk toy to play with outdoors. Eventually, I was reduced to prancing about the back lawn in the dark with a bizzy ball on a long length of string, doing my damndest to entice the cat into a game with me and amazingly, it finally worked (after all, what cat can resist the lure of a wiggling string?). I couldn't quite get my hands near enough to her to pick her up without her skittering away, so on her next twirl around my legs I gently but firmly stepped onto her tail and David grabbed her.
She smelled only vaguely of skunk, as if she had walked into the butt cloud after the skunk went off rather than having taken a direct hit. I at first decided not to torture her by giving her a bath (and me as well, being very allergic to cats) and instead doused her rather generously with the boys' sun-kissed raspberry body spray. I asked David if he thought she smelled any better and he responded with, "No, she smells like she's wearing raspberry skunk-stink perfume." I tried to live with the smell, but it was a hot night and frankly, being cooped up in the heat with a cat who reeked of fruit scented sun-kissed skunk was more than I could handle, so at 1:30 I gave in. Griffin and I took Maia outside where she got what was coming to her: a late-night, ice cold garden hose bath with half a bottle of baby shampoo. Maybe next time she'll think twice about tangoing with a skunk.