That Old Skunk

Last night, we were determined to block the skunk's gateway to the underworld of our house, so Turtle went into action. Loyd stayed around after VBS, staking out a position in his vehicle and helping us watch for the creature's departure. Turtle watched from inside the den. Loyd saw the skunk first as he crossed our yard--keeping well within the shadows of the fence--and dove into the underbrush of the creek across the street. He called Turtle on his cell phone and my fearless protector went into action with a heavy slab of wood, two stakes and a sledge hammer. He pounded the stakes into the ground, being careful not to mess up my flower bed of pampered petunias, and slid the board between them and the house. "There," he said, reassuringly, "That'll keep him out."

This morning, just before sunrise, I heard noises by the back door. The skunk was actually trying to get into the house, nosing at the door and scratching at the glass for all the world like a pet dog. I waited until he moved over toward the trash can, then stepped outside and got his picture.

"Foiled!"
He raised his tail.
I retreated into the house and waited until he trotted off around the corner of the garage before I dared to leave for my morning walk. I imagined that he would hide in the woods, or under a swooping juniper bush in the front yard.

But I badly underestimated the fury of that skunk.

When I returned from my walk, I saw Turtle walking around outside, talking on the phone. Immediately, I thought someone had died. Thankfully no. He was talking to city hall to see if our town had an animal control unit because our uninvited resident, Mr. Skunk, had attacked the portcullis, thrown down the stakes, and gained access to the castle dungeon.






Hmmm. Now what?
My petunias are highly offended.