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

Posted on December 15, 2008

Blossom ready to cut loose again.

Blossom ready to cut loose again.

Exotic pet skunks are a trip. Intelligent animals. Mine speak. At least Blossom does. Lacey is too little.

The Christmas tree is up, our skunks on perfect holiday behavior. Then Blossom cuts loose. 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 nooo, she would get her way through any course except sweetness.

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 Christmas season dinner by the tree and tried to launch her little bit self into his plate on the huge leather ottoman.

“oh no…” Papa grumbled as he caught her skidding butt in mid-landing. 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 stayed on his shoulders until bedtime. I could see the entire time that she was scoping out the room, plotting.blossom-on-papa-shoulders

But she would know how to handle Papa when she did try try again. 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. In example…

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

“Hi, Papa!” Blossom said quietly as she 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 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. Which he did.

“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.”fotolia_1063585_xssteak1

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 — you know and I know she was seeking the next launching pad to get onto his plate. She never spills anything, never knocks books off, unless she slides off with the entire pile.

Blossom on table in sleeping porch

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 just turned back to the movie and were hit with the reality of a great rush of a huge glass of water dumping onto Blossom’s head then 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.”


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.

Visit our sister blog Women’s Fiction for more pet stories. Also myths, dense observations and the lies we are told. Written by  a woman.

Remember – pets and chocolate don’t mix. Chocolate will poison your pets.


NO CHOCOLATE SANTAS Chocolate poisons pets.

Keep your chocolate on high shelves in a lidded jar with cupboard doors closed.

If you have exotic pets like pet skunks or ferrets, padlock the doors and don’t give them a ladder or the combination to the lock, this I know.

Happy holidays! and Merry Christmas!




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