Sharing plates with skunks…

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.

"Really, are they are going through the wash next?" asks Sagie who is washing dishes for Mama.

Unless the skunkie fools you into thinking it is washed.  They will lick a plate for ten minutes and it will shine when it has not been into a sudsy dishwater bath.  But we skunk people know that and we wash everything.

My family though, my dad namely, has issue.  And I can see the point.  But these are not dogs or cats doing what dogs are cats do.  They are tidy, polite little domestic skunkies.

One Thanksgiving we had everyone to the cabin.  One of the last years we were all together, we meaning all of us in the family and both my pet skunks, Jeronimo and Sequoia.

After dinner, I made a feast plate for my skunkies.  Brought them out to the kitchen to eat their dinner where everyone could enjoy how cute and sweet and cuddley.    Skunk people are like new parents, they never get over the pride and bragging.

Sequoia and Jeronimo usually ate off stompable, unbreakable plastic plates.  But all skunk holiday feasts are served on white antique stoneware china from England.  Remember the lead in antique china is real, so don’t do this often.  But we humans had antique china, so did they, the skunkies.  Dining with all but the candles that might set ablaze their little tail feathers.

The next holiday my sister admitted how cute they were.  But Dad had a problem.  She politely, diplomatically asked if I have plates for the people from which the skunks did not eat.

Since those are their special plates and I have modern day white stoneware for everyone else, rest assured, Dad did not eat from a skunk plate.

But really, only skunk people know.  These are special creatures.  Intelligent.  Resourceful with their surroundings…..

Skunks wipe like people.  Skunks do not lick their hineys.  They might scoot on the nearest rug to wipe…. but they do not lick.  So the plan is to place right by the litter pan the washable rug you want them to use for wiping.   But no,  skunks do not lick.  They wipe and everyday they brush themselves and brush their teeth too.  They sit on their fat flat haunches and groom their hiney fluff with their little hands.  So cute.

"Can I have your bean?" "No."

Skunks do not eat gucky stuff.  Unless of course, we are feeding them crickets and grubs.  That more real version of skunk dining is not happening in my house, I kiss my skunks.  They must be content with steak and chicken, shrimp and salmon.  Proteins that I, too, am willing to eat.

Thanksgiving dinner, skunks eat turkey (no ham or pork, please) and stuffing and yams without sugar.  They eat corn on the cob, French bean casserole, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie.  They should never eat too much sugar at once but they will eat all you give to them.

Want the Thanksgiving dishes from prep-cooking to be pre-washed before they hit the dishwasher or after they are inside said dishwasher?  Skunks can handle it.  Just don’t put in knives or fork tines facing up.

Turn a flock of skunks loose on a huge bowl where pumpkin pie filling was mixed, fifteen minutes of licking and it is good to go.

Yes, you will want to consider sugar, salt and seasoning intake.  No raisin cookies or mock mince meat, since the raisins in those cause renal failure in animals.  No asparagus which causes grand mal seizures.

But these domestic skunks, they are thorough if nothing else.

Skunkie moral of the story:  I’ve got nothing.  Except you want a dish washed right, give it to a skunk.

Thirty skunks stories about the boys.

Sick skunks won’t tell you until the last minute….

NOPE, I’M NOT COMING OUT TODAY

When a skunk is not hungry, it is seldom about the weather.

In the morning, when her door is opened, our skunk Blossom comes out of her den carrier like a race horse from the starting gate. Where is breakfast, let’s get this show on the road.

Lacey, the youngest one, all fluffy and soft, she slides out the door onto the floor yawning.  Lacey blinks as she decides to walk to the kitchen or be carried… no rush. Mornings are for pondering.

The morning it happened, when I opened the door, Lacey sprawled onto the floor, blinking at the white snow-sleet streaking past the wall of windows.  Blossom peeked out and pulled the blankets over her head.

“Blossom, come on honey bunny, it’s warm out here.”

“Nope, Mama, I’m not coming out today.”

Okay then.  Must be the snow, I thought.  This was our first winter season with Blossom so we were not sure of her habits in cold weather.  Perhaps she just figured it’s time to hibernate until breakfast is served anyway.  I picked up Lacey and prepared their breakfast without the usual Blossom-dance around my feet… the one where I shuffle so as not to trip me or tromp the skunkette.

Leaned down to present the little queen with a plate of chicken, nuts, cottage cheese, pear, and cucumber.  Little bits of favorites.

“Ugh,” Blossom said. “Get that out of here.”

“What’s wrong with Blossom?!!” I asked my husband. “Something is wrong with Blossom!”

“It’s snowing.  Cold.  She’ll eat when she’s ready.”

“But Blossom is always hungry.”

If it hadn’t been for the snow thing going on outside, I wouldn’t have second-guessed my instincts.  Lacey was packing a king-size velour blanket under the entertainment center, through a four-inch opening.  Things were different today.

Skunks do not generally say they have had enough when presented a food they enjoy.  They might say they don’t want it, if they don’t like the food.  Lacey does not like canned pumpkin which she refers to as a cousin to that which comes from the bowel system, and frosting this ’stuff’ with honey will not tempt her to even lick the honey off.  But if a skunk enjoys the food, let’s say they discover how to climb inside a garbage can of dry dog food, they will eat until they squeak-and-barf, then eat plenty more.  Promise you, I know these things.

So I knew in my heart that Blossom was not well.

I spent the day giving her colloidal silver and water, limu juice, and trying to tempt her with any food she would eat.  She licked her favorite juice from a syringe but would not even drink it from a bowl.

When I succumbed to taking her temperature three times, poor thing, she had a high temp.

Long day short, by that evening hubby was driving us at optimum speed without over-doing to get us to the last emergency vet appointment of the weekend with a vet she had never met because, of course, her regular vet was out of town, bless his heart.  Just the way it always falls.

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.  But the roads were clear.

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.  Tonight she was dehydrated, listless, eyes dull, gut tight, high fever.  Frankly, she may not have lived the night.

It all happened so easily and quickly it seemed.  I was beside myself trying to figure out when I missed the first clues she was ill.   Maybe when I was writing at two in the morning and she sidled into the office and slid onto the carpet in front of the radiant heater for only a few seconds, then disappeared back to bed.  Maybe the different fecal texture I wondered about for a second.  Maybe the way she was so easy to tuck into bed the night before.

The drive home was on the other scale of speed.  Our Denali gingerly paced between rushing semis.  Cruising black ice at twenty miles per hour for forty-five miles.  No, even a Yukon Denali does not feel big enough under these conditions.  For instance, driving between the Christmas tree farm to our road usually takes three minutes and we drove fourteen minutes – which seemed hours to the turn-off.  Plenty of time to fuss over Blossom though.  I would have to say, if she ever decides not to come out because it is snowing, she would have good reason after that drive.

The vet was a miracle-working genius.  Two hours, two injections, re-hydration, and two bottles of antibiotics to be sure we had the problem covered.  Sent home a hungry skunk with a hint of energy.  She still wanted her bed and had no gumption for running the room, but she ate sparse vet rations and snuggled up while we watched television.  Within a few days she was bouncing circles around her sister.

Moral of the story: Listen with your gut.

Literal moral of the story:  If a skunk ever tells you, “Nope, I am not coming out today,” you may want to seriously question their reasoning.  If I had listened to the reason of snow and time to hibernate now, well, we probably would not have a Blossom in our snowdrift today.

See post on too many cucumbers and pecans can dehydrate the large intestines.

Essa Adams is author and publisher of other skunk stories.
Skunk Medicine: There’s A Skunk In the House! and Other Tail-raising Stories

.

.

A Breath Floats By: An Illusion for the Soul
Contemporary women’s fiction, subversive romance, lady lit.  A novel with three pet skunks and two Newfoundland dogs starring.

“Don’t let the door hit you in the a**,” one pet skunk said to the other.

Every morning when I am in the ladies room, Lacey and Blossom come to hurry me to the kitchen.

Well, mainly Blossom.

"You are hyper!" "Me? You are a tornado! Look at your tail."

Lacey usually spreads out on the floor to wait it out.  She is not a morning skunk.

But Blossom charges into the room then out and races down the hall, then into the room and speeds down the hall and into the room and gallops down the hall and —- yeowsa.  At six in the morning.

But then again this is the skunk that sleeps all the live long day except for breakfast, noon snack, three o’clock snack and five o’clock dinner and, oh yes, her nine o’clock snack.

Then she WAKES UP and charges through the house at exactly five minutes after midnight!  It is her witching hour.  She has a ball.  She chases her sister, climbs onto the desk or bed to see me, races everywhere and I usually play with her when awake or in my sleep.  By breakfast, she has worked up a real appetite and wants to eat before she sort of goes to bed for the day.

This particular morning Lacey was snoring at my feet and Blossom had charged in and out of the room and back down the hall about twenty-seven times.  On her last trip out Lacey ran to the door and swung it shut so hard it almost latched, just missing Blossom’s wide skunkie butt as she galloped out into the hallway.

“Don’t let the door hit you in the a** on the way out!” Lacey yelled.  Then she primly came back to slide onto the floor and wait.

Yes, our little Lacey has found her voice, finally.  But that is another story.

Thirty-ish skunk stories in a book.

Visit our Skunk Medicine: There’s A Skunk in the House! and Other Tail-Raising Stories on Amazon.  Many skunks stories just like these.  25% of all profits go to Skunk Haven, a rescue in Ohio.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

PET SKUNK CARE TIP. PET SKUNK FOOD TIP:  If you are going to feed a lot of chicken, buy them hormone-fee, antibiotic-free.  Organic is best.  Just because it says ‘natural’ does not necessarily mean it will be good for your dearies.  Remember, they take hits to the liver and heart and their entire system from anything that is not healthy for them.  Skunks are very sensitive animals.  They don’t eat much and are worth the extra cost to get them the best, healthiest food you can afford for them.  Prevention is less expensive than dealing with liver disease, a toxic liver, an enlarged heart from steroids in food and so much more that can go wrong and probably will.  Write to me with specific questions.  Or ask in comments.