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Tuesday, November 30, 2010

#55-THE NOT SO SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS (part 2)




















For those of you newer followers each Friday I reprint an earlier post.  Sometimes I tweak it a  little sometimes I don't.  


STOP!  THIS IS PART 2.  If you are starting here you need to stop and go back to the previous FRIDAY (6/17/11) where THIS FLASH BACK started).






















          I put the garbage can in the garage and dropped an egg down into the can.  When the sweet thing (notice how the words describing the skunk are softening) just looked at me and did not tap a warning.  This gave me the desire to pick it up.  Still with gloved hand and old clothes I leaned over the trash can and slowly picked “pepe” up (as I tucked its tail under its dangerous end).  It was adorable, it sniffed, cuddled, and I think it smiled (I was in love).
          The next day, late in the afternoon, I drove it up into the hills behind our place.  I put the garbage can on its side and little Pepe (or Priscilla = I wasn't about to check the business end to find out) walked out.  But, instead of racing off into the wild (well, semi-wild) it turned and ran toward me.  I kept turning it around as I tried to shoo it off.  It was then that I heard male laughter coming from the sky.  Was God laughing at me?  I mean, I know he has a great sense of humor after all He did make this beautiful animal with its odiferous defense system.  OK, it wasn’t God, but two linemen hanging from a pole with a perfect view of my dilemma.
          After, I finally ran the juvenile off I jumped into my car and headed home.  I reset the trap, donated another egg, and placed it under my house after all it takes two to argue.  

I heard the trap go off that night.  So, thinking that I was now the GREAT ANIMAL HANDLER I went out to do a replay before going to work.  That way I could get this one up to where I released the first one and they could hook up.
          I repeated the procedure (even though I noted that this one was a bit larger).  But, (AND HERE IT COMES) this one had other ideas.  Just as I tripped the door it flipped its hind end up and LET ME HAVE IT (and it was a full load)
          I had never been sprayed before and had I known just how nasty it could be I may have allowed the massacre to happen earlier on my front lawn.  While retching I slammed home the trash can and its lid.  I called work to tell them what had happened and then called my mother to bring me TONS of tomato juice (which was a remedy my boss suggested). 
          I took my clothes off in the back yard, ran (el fresco) to the bathtub filled with tomato juice and scrubbed myself raw from head to toe.  Then I repeated the procedure with scented soap and shampoo.
          Thinking myself odor free I headed for work that afternoon.  I no sooner cleared the door and walked in than EVERYONE stood up, pointed to the door and uttered, “OUT!” (apparently my smeller was burned out by the experience).  Luckily it was Friday and I had all weekend to burry my clothes and lounge around in tomato juice (and various other concoctions my friends suggested ----by phone).
          Both the trash can and occupant was unceremoniously dumped from my car as I drove BY the place I had deposited the sweet one.  The lid popped off as it rolled down a small embankment.  Success, mission accompolished.  Two animals saved.  Cost:  A new trash can, 4 eggs, jeans, shoes, underwear, tomato juice (20 large cans), shampoo, rinse, assorted other remedies, and a burned out nose (all-in-all about $50!).  (100% TRUE)

kt2010

#54-THE NOT SO SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS (Part 1)

                                                   PART 2 is comming up soon.

While living Southern California in the early seventies I encountered a malodorous situation  Our duplex was in a small development that lay at the base of an undeveloped hill.  
          In the middle of the night I heard a squabble between two animals who had somehow gotten under the house.  They chose to disagree directly below my bedroom. The major  problem occurred when they decided to punctuate their ire with an unmistakable odor.  Aawwwwwh, mannnnn, skunk!
           At work the next morning I called the animal control office and alerted them to my fetid problem.  They promised to drop by that morning and set a trap.  I had an 11:30 lunch hour so I ran home to talk to the guy.
          The officer baited the trap with a raw egg and stuck it under the house.  Sure enough, by the time I got home there was a black and white critter in the trap.  I left my guest in the trap, called the officer, and asked him to meet me at my place the next day at four. 
          The next afternoon I went home early, watched as he pulled the trap from under the house, and viewed the beautiful, shiny-coated animal.  I asked him to return it to the hills.  He immediately replied, “No way lady, I’m not stinkin’ up my truck!”
          When I asked him what he usually does he said, “Well, I can just shoot the thing right where it sits!”
          Visions of school children witnessing the carnage filled my mind (a small crowd had already gathered to view the event) and before I could think I blurted out, “NOT MY SKUNK!”  (emphasis on the word MY).  He threw up his hands, shook his head, laughed, and left.  Now I had a small problem to solve; what was I to do with MY skunk?
          I laid down in the grass on my belly (at a respectable distance of course) while eying the pusillanimous polecat (and formulated a plan).  I was struck by the fact that it was very small and young which made me all the more determined to orchestrate a positive outcome.  The plan involved a large trash can (with a lid), another egg, old clothes and major guts (mine)!
          I slid up to the cage on my stomach while talking softly to the adorable creature
By this time I had drawn an audience of about 30 people.  The small frightened animal raised its rear end and patted its sweet, tiny, front feet at me as a warning.  Undaunted by its display I inched forward and paused every time it tapped its tiny feet.  Eventually, we were almost nose to nose.  It had retreated to the back of the cage which gave me room to release the door catch.  I then slid the garbage can up to the door, righted the trash can, and slammed the lid home.  Applause erupted from the crowd.  I bowed and announced (with a Porky Pig stutter), “Ttttthat's all, folks.”
          
(Oh, this one is a little too long!   I am going to need to finish it tomorrow.  (THE BEST IS YET TO COME!   TRUST ME!) 
kt2010