Pet skunks are sarcastic. That is why mine are for sale. Forgive me if I am a bit cranky, but that is what the exotics pets said to me. The elder cat said I am essentially a turnip.... You can feel sorry for me anytime here. I used to be a Pollyanna. Today changed me forever. Living with my great-great-great-grandfather could not be more enlightening than this ancient cat and these flippant pet skunks.
December 19, 2009
My favorite winter evening is cuddled under blankets, white Christmas lights glowing, daughters telling stories. Sequoia snuggles against my shoulder. Jeronimo on his back, stubby legs poking up as he intently studies the tree with his sly grin. The Christmas tree is safe... momentarily...
November 26, 2009
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Some people just can't stand to eat off the same plates as a skunk. Frankly, I don't see the problem. It's not like the plate remains unwashed. Only skunk people know, these are special creatures, intelligent, resourceful with their surroundings. Meaning skunks wipe. Skunks do not lick. They might scoot on the nearest rug to wipe.... but they do not lick. And everyday they brush themselves and brush their teeth.... Skunks do not eat gucky stuff. Unless we feed crickets and grubs... not happening in my house.. they must be content with steak and chicken, shrimp and salmon. Proteins that I, too, am willing to eat..... Thanksgiving dinner, skunks eat from the antique china....
November 8, 2009
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.....driving us at optimum speed ...toward the last emergency vet appointment of the weekend before the ice storm, with a vet she had never met.... Blossom was between us, holed up in blankets in her den-carrier and covered with more blankets. Black eyes staring from the little den hole. A long drive into the dark. She met the vet with no animosity. Not very Blossom-like, as it took four vet techs to sedate her five-pound butt in order to be spayed.
April 5, 2009
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. “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!”
January 17, 2009
You can feel sorry for me anytime here. I used to be a Pollyanna. Today changed me forever.... 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...
December 22, 2008
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On the night of the gifts, the skunks on night prowl were 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. My skunks 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 for me, they started butt-shoving each other out of the way.
January 22, 2010
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