The one in the office is clean–

Jeronimo liked the litter pan in the downstairs bathroom at the cabin. If someone locked him out, he would bang down the door.

This title was Lacey’s first long sentence, she’s beginning to talk now.  Been so busy I didn’t get to the story until now.

There are never enough litter boxes in a skunk household.  The more skunks you have the more litter pans you might want.

We have two girl skunks now.  They are not like the boys.  The girls prefer a clean litter pan.  We can have a pan in every room – for their convenience – but it is not enough.

After dinner the other day Blossom had to go pooey.  She headed for the one closest to her den.  Lacey was just finishing up.  Blossom sighed exasperatedly.  Lacey climbed out, saying, “The one in the office is clean.”  And off Blossom  galloped to the other end of the house for the clean box.

I can be in the office working and one will come in to poo.  I have the box right by my feet so that when I am working I can deter them from using it.  Otherwise I would have to stop what I am doing and clean the box.  Geez, I think they could use the other ones more than once.

Really, if one pees in a litter pan, they will avoid it until it is changed.  We would be standing by with a towel and wipes if they had it their way.

SKUNK  FACT:  they prefer corners.  In the wild they back up to logs and tree stumps.  They also will use the other end of their den because the poo smells like skunk spray and deters other animals.  Best to warn a wolf with a pile of poo than surprise them with a spray in the face. What skunk wants to wake up and bother with all that.

SKUNK TIP:  All animals are highly sensitive to essential oils.  These should never be used directly on your pet or around them too close.  Be careful of oils in shampoos too.  The best shampoos are fragrance free and do not contain potentially harmful ingredients like PEG, meaning very bad propolyne glycol (there are about 100 synonyms for this alone)  lauryl sulfates, DEA and harsh chemicals.  I keep my life simple and just shampoo my skunks in the mildest human shampoo and conditioner that also has no harsh chemicals—- which I believe is by Neways.  I like the Ultimate shampoo for my girls, but if you really want to take them to the salon try Keratonics.  With these for shampooing, I just know they will always be okay.  Email me from my website ESSA Natural with questions.

But I don’t like saaalad….

Lacey, our youngest skunk is learning to eat her veggies raw. But we are having a few issues.

Lacey is our eighteen-month-old princess skunk. A lovely fluff of a female with the most petite feet and prettiest stripe up her aristocratic face.

Cucumbers and sweet red peppers are her vegetables of choice. She loves proteins. Chicken, turkey, wild salmon, beef, venison, elk. But mostly, Lacey loves calories — cottage cheese, cheese, yogurt, nuts and hulled roasted seeds, pasta, cereal, nibbles of dog food and cat food. More than anything, Lacey wants oily stuff. She will lick a butter wrapper for fifteen minutes.  When we pick her up she grabs it in her hands and tries to eat it.

Back to the cucumber. As Lacey’s mama, I thought the cucumber was a fine food for her to eat every day. That was until the end of the garden organic cucumbers came through from the local farmer. I was letting Lacey live it up with all the cucumber she wanted. Well, Lacey and her sister, Blossom, ended up dehydrating.

Yes, black poop. Dehydrated skunks. Vet bills. Didn’t know what was going on, what I did wrong. Then realized that cucumbers are the one product used in diuretics to help humans release the extra water when they are retaining. Poor skunks. They still get cucumbers but not as often, not as much.

This means Lacey must learn to eat her veggies. No, she doesn’t want carrots, no broccoli, no cauliflower or cabbage, no green beans unless they are cooked. What skunk eats cooked green beans in the wild. I’m not giving her a cooked green anything. She needs to get over it. Besides, all these cruciferous organic veggies are the best calcium for her bones. She could end up with domestic skunkie osteoporosis and not be able to walk. This is common.

She will always eat organic Boston lettuce and red leaf lettuces if – if I drizzle flaxseed oil on the greens.

The last two days I have done my best. I tried chopping her veggies into tiny pieces, then stirring her scrambled egg or meat right in. She snipped out the bits of protein and charged for her sister’s bowl.

Well, this was fine with sister, who loved it all, had already finished her own meat. Lacey found Blossom’s bowl full of the same veggies sans the meat. Blossom got extra veggies.

“Don’t worry, Mama,” Blossom said, “cuz we have a system.”

Yes they have a system that benefits Blossom, trading off bowls when they are almost done. Blossom is not a picky eater and always gets what is left. She gained a pound in six months.

On their last midnight snack of yogurt and celery, I drizzled a bit of flaxseed oil on Lacey’s chopped celery.

Blossom ate her celery and yogurt and charged across the kitchen for Lacey’s bowl. But I grabbed Blossom and we went to the dining room to sit with Papa to watch if Lacey would eat the celery or just lick the oil. It’s an interesting life we lead here.

“I want down,” Blossom complained. “She’s not going to eat the celery. I need to lick the bowl for you.”

“Wait until sister is done,” I said. “She got salad dressing and you didn’t.”

That was too much information.

“She got salad dressing?!” Blossom yeowled, throwing herself backward like the three-year-old she is. “That is not fair!”

“Just wait.”

She wriggled and waggled to get down. “Mama, let me go!  Papa! Help!” But Papa just laughed.

Lacey finished all her celery and licked all the flaxseed oil. So sad, Blossom licked the bowl another three minutes just to prove she liked it best of all.

This morning, I mixed chopped celery, cucumber, leaf lettuce, baby carrots, peeled red pepper, a bit of ground sirloin. Sans oil.

Lacey looked over her shoulder thinking very loudly, as she does not speak, yet. “But I don’t like saaaalad.”

She spotted Blossom still eating. Maybe if she was fast enough, aggressive enough, she could get that beef. Lacey circled the kitchen before charging for Blossom’s bowl.

I grabbed her so Blossom could eat, then proceeded to spoil Lacey by drizzling a half teaspoon of flaxseed oil on her salad, stirring well.

I placed bowl and skunk back in place.  Lacey started to nibble.

Blossom had been watching.  She left a nearly full bowl and charged toward Lacey’s bowl.  I was in the middle of the room like a halfback.  It is a halfback?  Or quarterback?

Anyway, I grabbed Blossom.  Her body-slamming skunk fights are never pretty.  Want to avoid that!

“It’s not fair!” Blossom screamed, kicking.  “She gets everything!  That beauty mark nose stripe! She’s longer and fluffier! AND she gets the oil!”

“You eat in the bedroom, honey bunny. You already like your veggies. Besides, Lacey won’t be getting the extra oil for long. She’ll learn.”

Sullen little Blossom was closed into the bedroom with her ‘diet’ food.

Lacey ate it all.  As a reward for eating her veggies, since I was giving the dog scrambled raw egg with little natural nuggets, I dripped three into her bowl. She grabbed the spoon with both hands, licking the egg off. “Mmmmmm.”

When Lacey was done, I picked up her bowl and locked her in the living room to avoid food fight issues, then took a few doggie nuggets with raw egg to Blossom. But she charged from the room to find Lacey’s bowl. I called her back to her own bowl.

She had to decide between remnants of oil verses what was on Mama’s spoon.  Blossom reluctantly turned back to me. “All right, what have you got then.” And her smart-little butt was richly rewarded for all her sacrifice.

SKUNK LESSON — Too much cucumber could dehydrate.  Never give asparagus, which has caused grand mal seizures, and never give skunks grapes or raisins as these can cause enlarged heart and renal failure respectively.

SKUNK TIP: -Skunks need live calcium for their bones.  The best live source – leafy green vegetables.  Lettuce — but not the iceberg which is actually a hybrid of cabbage and lettuce and is not digestible for most people either.  Leaf lettuces are best… like red and green, Boson, Romaine.  Cabbages like savoy and green cabbage.  Also broccoli, celery, kale, bok choy.  If it is green – but not asparagus – then it is good for them to eat.  Raw is best, the cooked has lost sources of minerals they need.  Be certain to get organic.  If not, then be  certain to remove the sprays.  There are spray removers at the health food store, but I usually soak in 50-50 hydrogen peroxide / water a few minutes then rinse well.

Supplements for calcium – We used a liquid angstrom supplement for bones.  This is highly bioavailable. The powdered calcium is not bioavailable and in my opinion, will cause arthritis as it lodges calcium desposits in the joints and along the spine.  We know, we actually had two skunks with solidified spines from the powdered calcium.  At the very least use a liquid colloidal minerals that is specific for bones.  NEW PRODUCT FOR THEM — The one we have been using for five months now is Neways Maximol Solutions which is full of ionic minerals, vitamins and amino acids.  I also sprinkle Green Qi on their scrambled eggs, yum.  There is a short clip on this page.

I am a holistic guide and answer questions all day long, so if you have concerns or questions about anything human or pet.  I won’t just tell you about Neways.  I have been introducing people and pets to many wonderful companies for morethan a decade….  just go to my website and email me.  I always respond.

Mama sure is taking her own sweet time today…

An exotic pet skunk story.  Exotic pets and geriatric pets take a special love of the heart. Forgive me if I am a bit cranky but…..

……this is what the exotics just said to me – twice.

The time is now eight-two minutes since I emerged from my bedroom, wearing too little clothes to stay warm.  So far I fed two ungrateful pet skunks – twice, sort of fed one cranky, finicky, decrepit old cat, and missed the boat when caring for my beloved lame, geriatric Newfoundland dog.  Oh… and I dressed – twice.

Last night I went to bed at ten in the evening instead of one in the morning.  Thought I would start a new shift with hubby who was gone when I awoke.

First off, this was the coldest night yet.  The lovely new Gen 3 EPHeater was turned too low during the night, so I was cold.  That was the catalyst in all my problems today.

Usually, I release the skunks from their den-carriers then shuffle barefooted around the kitchen with my strappy nightgown hanging off one shoulder.  This gets my sweet little princesses fed in the timely fashion to which they are accustomed.

Rule number one – never break routine no matter how cold you are or unglamorous you look.

Today, I let them out and poured granola, went into the bedroom and dressed.  Even did my hair.  Two skunks followed every move, complaining, and eventually digging my bare feet to hurry me along.

“Mama is sure taking her own sweet time today,” Blossom told Lacey, who shook her head and went back to bed to wait.  Blossom continued to hurry me along.

Snuggies the cat rolled his eyes.  He’s twenty-four, what did these two itty-bits know of time.

So I am all dressed, loving my hang-around-the-house outfit.  Soft pink velour pants.  Long-sleeve tees, brown wool sweater.  Slid into my slippers to protect toes from Blossom’s skunk digs and off we galloped to the kitchen for her really late breakfast.  Milk on my granola to soften.  Plated up their food.  Coaxed Lacey back out to eat.

Pet skunk care tip: Mind you, always make sure skunkies are eating when doing anything where you do not want them to assist.  Like feeding the dog, which is another story altogether.  And feeding the cat, or doing laundry or going outside.

Skunks were eating, so fed the cat on a plate next to them, took dog food to one-hundred thirty pound Newfoundland dog on doggie sleeping porch.  Intent now is simply to go watch skunkies and cat eat while I eat, pick up plates and intervene as needed.  Then take dog outside.  Then work.  Not bad for twenty minutes out of the bed.

You can feel sorry for me anytime here.  I used to be a Pollyanna.  Today changed me forever.

Was heading in the door to chaperone their breakfast, but my snowplow guy showed up three hours early.  Good thing I’m dressed then.

The snowpile Plow Guy made last years on my flower beds.

Wade out door through snow I was going to shovel when doggie went out. Am in my slippers.  Give my plow guy the garden parameters for the year.  Don’t pile snow on flower beds, flowers need spring sunlight, not ice piles with a Newfoundland dog on the ice piles on the flowers.  As we shake on it, I slide onto my arse under his truck.  Come in with snow in my slippers, cold socks, wet pants.  So much for gratitude.  At least the snow is clean.  Pants will be dry in a few…. hours?

Dog says he is ready to go out.  ‘Wait for plow guy to finish,’ I say as I knock snow from slippers and strip my pants off one frozen leg.  I peel embedded snow off the hem.  Do I hear the cat upchucking?  Are the skunks in his food already?

Oh man, lots of windows.  Snowplow guy can see me.   I cover my abundant bikini-clad arse with the not-large-enough blue dog bowl.  Wade through skunks to get in the door.  Shuffle through the kitchen with a pant leg dragging.  No puke.  (No no wait for it.)  Pick up cat dish he only licked sauce off.  New brand, only can in the store last night… we live in the middle of nowhere… really.  Not even the skunks wanted this food.

In the bedroom, I take off my lovely soft pink velour pants.  Notice cat’s upchuck streaked across the dragging pant leg.  Eh.

Now you can say it.

Back to the kitchen with a pile of laundry I have to do seven hours before the spray to wash bottle arrives, no telling what will happen to my last pair of clean pants.  I see the cat puke in middle of kitchen floor.  The sunlight enhances its aura.

Drop laundry to go for cleaning bottle and paper towels before skunks track it too.  And notice my first tracks of cat puke leading all the way to the bedroom.  Step out of my slippers and into more cat puke. Strip off that sock.

I clean it all up and scrub the path only to feel through my other sock that I have stepped in it a third… or is it the fourth time.

You can call me a turnip anytime now.

Take the second pair of slippers into bathroom to wash.  They end up too wet to wear.  But I am soon redressed anyway, cranberry-coloured pants I really hate today, clean dry socks, and clogs.  I’m okay.

Back to kitchen. Remember, never break stride, never give them a chance, never ever turn your back.

We are playing in puke - why does it bother you so much?

Skunks have tipped over the can of pukey paper towels they did not want, digging for anything good in the bottom where there was nothing at all.  I could have told them that.  As far as the upchuck…. they didn’t want the food, didn’t play with the puke when they had the chance.  Now they have tracked the mess in a circle. At least they were busy in one place.  In the skunk world we call being ganged up on ’skunkie camaraderie’.

I ganged up on them next.  One shocked skunk upside down under my arm, the other getting her hands and paws washed in the sink.  It can be done.  Dry her, wash and dry the other.  Tuck them in the den-carriers and shut the door.

Where is that cat before he barfs again?

The dog has stopped barking at snowplow guy.  I go out to admire plow guy’s handiwork.  Help my lame old dog to stand by using a towel for a lift.  I smell it.  I smell it, I smell it.  Poor old guy was barking to go out more than at plow guy’s truck.  Poor dog pooped in his bed.  Washed his hiney, my hands, took the bedding out to freeze since my laundry will go in first.  And find cat upchuck on the bottom of the laundry pile I had dropped onto the kitchen floor.

The twenty-four year old cat who is most of the time quite confused about where you are when you call or feed him, pretty much blind, cannot really hear or smell, is sitting on the sleeping porch daybed rolling his eyes.

“Mom,” he says, “Didn’t you just yesterday say something akin to sarcasm to your sweet husband… something about ‘live and learn’?”

What did you dear husband say just this morning? asked the smart-aleck cat.

“Next time puke in your litter box.”

“Of course, I’ll think of that…. just gag me.”

I let my skunks out of their den carriers and they charge to the kitchen like they had never been fed.

“Mama sure took her own sweet time getting us up today,” Blossom complained to Lacey.

I gave each of them a spoonful of my soggy granola.

Moral of the story. Guess.  What can go wrong, will.  You already knew that one though. Some things do go well though, as in that it only took me forty-three minutes to write this blog today.

Literal caring for pet skunks moral of the story. Never break stride.  Never change the routine.  Don’t turn your back.  Don’t let them see you sweat.  When skunks are out of hand you can gently turn them upside down like chickens, no, not holding them by thefeet or tail, just upside down. They tend to crawl up you so being upside down throws them int oa dependent mode for the moment anyway.  Skunks really want to curl against you for safety though. Try this first. But never let them know for a moment that, literally, they have the upper-hand.  Yes, those are hands on the front, little hands like racoons.

Skunk Medicine: There’s A Skunk In the House! and other Tail-raising Stories  –pet skunk memoirs    Amazon paperback

A Breath Floats By Paperback  —Novel with three pet skunks and two Newfoundland dogs in story

Amazon.com paperback, Amazon Kindle version, ESSA Books ebook $9

All link info in menu.

Visit Women’s Fiction Blog – more short stories – quite often about skunks, dogs, cats.  True stories with a hint of creative falacy. And the lies we are told – hence fiction for women.

Pet Skunks for Christmas? Tie up mine, please…

Exotic pets need to be wrapped during Christmas

After the Christmas past, I’m tempted to tuck my exotic pets, these skunks o’ mine into festive stockings on the hearth to keep them out of mischief.

The most precious Christmas gift for me would be a dearheart little pet skunk with a red bow, snuggled into a soft Christmas stocking, tucked beneath the tree.

May she be asleep, please.

Nothing is sweet as a descented skunk, smelling like a powder puff, curled into a Christmas stocking. In a perfect world from now on, all my sweet domestic skunks would be carefully hung from the hearth with their square haunches filling stockings. I would take pictures of worried, wrinkled faces. What desaced skunks do when they don’t like what’s happening to them.

Yes, indeed, after the last four Christmas holidays with pet skunks in the house, I’m tempted to leave all of them hanging out of temptation until the holiday passes. That would keep them from mischief, though I have proven quite naive.

Gifts? Grab ‘em, bro!

Two seasons hence, I realized skunks really dig Christmas presents. They maul them. Hands onto paper like a furious digging-for-crickets spree. When it happened to me, I really was clueless. Now you have a clue.

Jumping the gifts was Jeronimo’s idea. The years before, when Sequoia was an only skunk, he didn’t dig the gifts. Sequoia is a shy, unassuming little skunk. Well, maybe not so much.

I was blissfully unaware of their new motivation as I wrapped gifts in the living room, boxes piled prettily under the tree, those ready for ribbons and cards around me.

Natural shakable tree.

Sequoia and Jeronimo woke up at their first witching hour of eight o’clock. Skipped in to check out the forest scene. The Christmas tree stood in a wire-covered old washtub to deter short-legged creatures from midnight swims.

Sequoia and Jeronimo are acutely excited about the tree in the big house. Their waking moments are spent nosing around the long-needle evergreen. On the night of the gifts, their night prowl was rewarded with wrapping paper, tissue, ribbons, bows, boxes everywhere.

But, no, they didn’t throw themselves into the paper or loose ribbons like a cat. No.

Sequoia and Jeronimo pounced the wrapped presents. For once, sharing. Gleeful comrades. They dug those presents – literally dug with determination and long skunk claws, enhanced by brotherly snarling and squealing.

While I was shoving wrapped presents on the hearth where the skunks should have been, the brothers dove onto the next gifts. Fortunately, they started butt-shoving each other out of the way. Fortunately, Jeronimo’s best defense is sitting on Sequoia’s head, making his furious older brother squeal like a steaming teapot. They could try this in football, no?

I should have known better

Each night since the tree moved into the big house, I heard Sequoia squealing his fury when his baby brother was butt-shoving and sitting on him. Every morning I found that the skunks, seemingly assisted by cats, managed to remove a dried flower, pinecone, or the end of a low bough. Once they had their prize, they would dig it to dust in the rug.

Did I think cats?

Two nights before Christmas when relatives were expected, I hung a few tiny popcorn balls by leather strips from higher branches. Next morn, plastic wrap was on the floor. Not one popcorn ball on the tree. Perhaps a skunk was the culprit, no? But they had to have assistance to get that off a high branch.

The popcorn balls were so desirable Jeronimo roused several times next day to skip to the tree. He would toddle around and around. Nothing found, he would skip back to his den behind my bedroom dresser.

That evening he skipped into the living room at witching hour, Sequoia dancing along and trying to push Jeronimo out of the way. No avail. They nosed around the tree, more intent than ever. But I am not that stupid. No popcorn balls were hung.

Exasperated and scowling, Jeronimo, who is an extremely long skunk, stood on his short hind legs beneath the tree. He balanced with his tail. Wrapped his front legs and hands around a branch, shaking the tree furiously. Square little Sequoia sat square on his haunches, expectant.

Shaking the tree must have been how they felled the popcorn balls. That night they got nothing. So they shoved off to the dog food bowl.

Regurgitation

One morning I awoke to find an alarming smatter of regurgitation resembling shiny red shards of glass.

I searched for my skunks. Who else?

Throughout the house I found five more piles that looked like one of the skunks had regurgitated vital organs. I yelled for someone, phone to tell the vet we have an emergency.

Then I found chewed plastic wrap. Realized the pooh-butts discovered candy canes. My daughter left her bookbag on the floor and the culprits dug through canvas.

Much better for them

Sequoia opening seeds gift

Treats on Christmas morning are sugarless. Peanuts, cashews, hulled sunflower seeds in festive paper. The only chance they have to dig gifts now are their own.

The tree is now a compromise. A ‘nature tree’ decorated with pinecones, dried flowers, feathers. Bird decorations, skunk slippers, plush skunk toys running through the branches.

Yes, a Christmas tree of compromise made to be mauled and gleefully shaken. Everything is wire-tied on, non-edible, and skunk-proof.

My favorite winter evening is when we are all cuddled under blankets on the sofa, tiny white Christmas lights glowing throughout the room, daughters telling stories of their day. Sequoia snuggles against my shoulder, hibernating where he likes best. Jeronimo is reclined on his back in the crook of someone’s arm, stubby legs poking up as he intently studies the tree with his sly grin.

The Christmas tree is safe momentarily. Gifts are stacked on the hearth, entertainment center, lamp tables, hutch, blanket chest, dining table…. ah, yes, just where they belong when skunks are in the house.

Skunk Medicine: There’s a Skunk in the House! and Other Tail-Raising Stories

‘Striped Christmas’ original short story title in skunk memoir book.

Skunk excerpts at ESSA Books in novel A Breath Floats By …..enjoy!

SKUNK TIP FOR THE DAY?  Read the story LOL because there are stacks!

Essa

© Essa Adams, ESSA Books

Contact author for details on permission to reprint.

Domesticated princess

Lacey the skunk princess

A pet skunk snuggle toy.

This is our aristocrat, Lacey. She is too little to speak, but a bundle of joy. Lacey is the sidekick to Blossom in most of the skunk stories so far. I thought you would like to meet her as you read.

HOLIDAY SKUNK CARE TIPS:  If you haven’t figured it out already… when hanging candy canes from your Christmas tree, wire tie them high in the branches.  If your skunks are climbers, don’t even bother with real candy canes, use plastic.  Also, wire your tree to the ceiling.

Come by the day before Christmas Eve for the pet skunk Chirstmas story, ‘Striped Christmas’ from Skunk Medicine (the skunk memoir book) by Adams.

Happy bubbles…

When skunks are very content, being all snuggled and relaxed, they make these little sounds I call happy bubbles. This is a joyous little ‘pop’ echo from deep inside. I think they sigh aaahhhh….

Pooh used to make happy bubbles.  Today, Blossom made a happy bubble right after I was reminding Hubby of how Pooh used to make these sounds. Hubby said I was burping her, but no, I know a happy bubble when I hear it and feel it.

The more content and relaxed your skunk, the more peacefulness you feel in your heart. That’s why the joy they bring is called skunk medicine.

Click on Blossom to read one of her latest stories, ‘Don’t worry, Papa, I’m just thining about it…’

Two Skunks A Leaping Christmas Card

Why does she do this to us?

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Sequoia and Jeronimo posing for the Christmas postcard.

Before they decided to leap into the tree.

Notice the Christmas tree was decorated with stuffed skunks?

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I know, let's leap into the Christmas tree!

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And so they did.  Leap, that is.

For more pet skunk photos and short stories, visit Women’s Fiction on WordPress.

Feature for December is Gracie – The Christmas Ladybug which has a pet skunk in the storyline with a photo.

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Also find several skunk stories with my skunk memoir book, Skunk Medicine, soon to be posted on this blog.

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Merry Christmas!

Essa Adams

Don’t worry, Papa, I’m just thinking about it….

Blossom ready to cut loose again.

FEATURE – scroll down for more recent posts…

Exotic pet skunks are a trip. Intelligent animals, mine speak. Well, at least Blossom does. Lacey is too little.

The Christmas tree is up, our skunks on perfect holiday behavior. Then Blossom cuts loose.

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But Blossom has a way with Papa.

Our adult daughter never ever figured out how to have such a way with Papa. I tried to teach her. Call him Papa, I coaxed. Sweetly ask for what you want, dear. But no, she was having nothing of the sweet manipulation of women. She would get her way through any other course.

So Papa had a way with our daughter that irked her to no end. Papa’s favorite saying for her was, ‘Stick your lip out a little more so I can sit on it.’

Blossom, our three-year-old, five-pound skunkette… now she has a way with Papa.  She just gets it.

The other night Blossom forgot her place during our quiet by the Christmas tree dinner and tried to launch her little bit self into his plate on the huge leather ottoman.

“oh no…” Papa grumbled as he caught her mid-landing skid. He gently turned her upside down and carried her to the other room to stay in her den for who knows how long he thought would earn her reprieve.

“Papa, I’m sorry,” Blossom sobbed, tail bobbing all the way. “I didn’t mean to do it, Papa.”

No response.

“I was just so hungry, Papa.”  She just ate.

Papa turned her over and kissed her on the head. “You just stay in there, little girl. You can come out in a few minutes.” He tenderly put her in the carrier and reluctantly closed the door.

“Okay, Papa,” she called after him. “I love you.”

When he finished dinner, he carried Blossom back to the sofa where she slept on his shoulders until bedtime.

As always, I think that if only our daughter had chosen a comparable demeanor, whether she meant it or not, how calm our life could have been back then.

The next night Papa’s dinner was on the ottoman.

“Hi, Papa!” Blossom quietly toddled over, little skunkie butt slightly side-angling like she might spray just to get his dinner. “It’s okay, I’m just teasing you, Papa. I’m just looking at it.”

Papa shook his head.”Don’t even look at it.”

Blossom turned the other way and toddled around the back of the sofa until she reached his other side where he couldn’t see her unless he looked straight down the sofa to the floor.

“Hi,” she said, “I cannot see it from over here.”

“Mmmhmm.” He took a drink of water, as usual getting  a kick out of his control over this tot of a skunk who had a way with him.

“I’ll go play with Lacey until you’re done with dinner.”

“You do that.”

The next night Papa’s dinner was on the ottoman. Steak and brussel sprouts.

Blossom rushed up to the ottoman and sort of climbed the side, hanging on by her little fingers as she peered at his plate of goodness.

“Huh-uh,” Papa warned.

“Don’t worry, Papa, I’m just thinking about it.”

“Well, you’re thinking too hard then.” He pried her little claws off the ottoman and sent her on her way.

Blossom toddled around the back of the sofa to his right side and thought about clinging to the ottoman from over there, but one look from Papa and she went to play with Lacey.

Sometime after dinner Papa decided he would have an apple. Blossom and Lacey always get nibblets of apple so they were right there and not disappointed. Then Blossom climbed onto Papa’s shoulders for a power nap.

She was up in a few minutes and wandered from me to Papa along the back of the sofa, then onto the lamp tables. She never spills anything, never knocks books off, unless she slides off with the entire pile.

Blossom on table in sleeping porch

But tonight she took a loud drink from his water glass. We never let them drink or eat after us, who knows when we are contagious and then we have an epidemic with all these pets.

“Well, that’s a first,” he said. “Out of there, little girl.”

“Okay.” So she wandered across him, the sofa, me, onto my lamp table to drink from my water glass even louder.  She was grinning.

“Well, they’re no good now,” he said. “At least she never spills anything,” and so we continued to watch her run from one glass to another to drink louder each time, a great new game that I knew was not a good idea at all.

We turned back to the movie but were brought back to reality with the rush of a great glass of water dumping down onto the hardwood floor.

“That’s a first,” Papa said, handing a soppy skunkette to me as he went for the paper towels. He wiped up everything while I mopped at the skunk.

“I’m sorry, Papa. I’ll never do it again.”

“Uh-huh.”

Blossom, who had been animated all night, slid down on my chest with her nose on my neck and plastered her body tight. Her bulgy black eyes never left his face.

Until he forgave her.

© Essa Adams, ESSA Books

Contact author for details on permission to reprint.

Sage really did eat the fake ladybug

That fake ladybug was eaten by my pet skunk years ago…

There were a lot of things Sage wished he had not done in his life, but eating the fake ladybug was in the top three.

One day I will write the full story. But if you like pet skunks, or just pet humor, there’s a bit going on in my short story, Gracie: The Christmas Ladybug, where Sage’s experience is included.

See the blog called Women’s Fiction by Essa Adams. Link in my menu here.

You will probably find pet humor over there in any story I write, they are what make my world go around.

Over here, I will write all the little stuff and post photos quite often.

Essa Adams

Women’s Fiction Blog

Home of the short story

Gracie: The Christmas Ladybug

Author of Skunk Medicine: There’s A Skunk in the House! and Other Tail-raising Stories