Skunk - A Black and White Terror

I had popped over to Jessica's blog and reading her story made me laugh as I remembered the events of Thanksgiving 2006.

We had decided to spend Thanksgiving weekend with my dad and family at the deer lease. All the others stay in RVs but the cookshack was mine and Frank's. Now, I am not a snooty person who is above staying at Motel 6, but I do like to have a place to sleep that is warm in the winter and cool in the summer and a place where I can shower and, well you know, without going outside. The "cookshack", as we called it did provide both of these and was much better than staying at "Harvey's Cabins" (yet a post for a later date). This building has a large room that serves as the living area and the kitchen. The bathroom is a passageway between the kitchen and the bedroom. See the picture? Nice decor, huh, and check out the tissue dispenser. There is a shower on the opposite side, only, the sheet metal is blue and the floor is concrete. There is no sink in the bathroom so hands have to be washed and teeth brushed at the kitchen sink. The bedroom is has bed (for lack of a better term) and pressboard walls and ceiling. Someone did go to the trouble to decorate the ceiling with plastic glow in the dark stars. It was home when we were at the lease and it kept us warm and out of the weather.

At the front of the cookshack is a screened porch that runs almost the length of the building. The screen door doesn't have screen any longer but does have some wire attached to the bottom to keep the critters out. It is not The Ritz, but it does keep out the weather and has hot water, really hot water!

This was Mattie May's first Thanksgiving and they were going to be with us. Frank, being the wonderful grandfather that he is, went shopping and had her all decked out in her first camo outfit, from her bucket hat with a big safety orange bow all the way down to her tiny feet in hiking boots. We were having such a good time.

The owner of the lease lived up by the entrance and had aquired two labs. They were both about a year old, a black and a yellow. And labs are normally good dogs, but these two had no manners. They seemed to think they were ours anytime we were there. With nimal lovers in camp and having dogs there ourselves, these two were also fed and watered regularly.

I know this is a lot of information, but I have to paint this picture for you.

On Thanksgiving night we started preparing for bed because, being so close to San Antonio, and there being a new Bass Pro Shop, we were getting up early to go shopping on Black Friday (special, two game cameras for $79.00, it was worth the drive). We had noticed the dogs had been hanging around and had been barking but we just thought they were barking at the coyotes again. We never noticed any other commotion. The kids settled in on an air mattress in the living room and as he was brushing his teeth, Frank noticed the outside light was on. He opened the door and that is when it came in.

Oh, the odor! Those wonderful visiting dogs had a fight with a skunk right at the screened porch! The odor permiatted the entire shack. You know the smell. Driving down the highway you pass a dead one on the side of the road and the odor fills the vehicle. Well this time it lingered. After about 30 minutes it was so strong that it went from the skunky smell to a very strong smell of ammonia and that smell just got stronger and stronger. Frank decided the dogs had killed it right outside the door or that it chased off the dogs and was still hanging around outside. He grabbed the gun and went outside. The air was actually better out there than it was inside. The culprit was never found, dead or alive, and the the two labs were hanging out just dripping in the stench from that little fellow.

We tried and tried to get that smell out of the house but it was there to stay. We thought about just leaving for SA that night, but stuck it out. The next morning when Poppa came in from his RV and told us the smell was stronger in there than anywere else in camp.

That weekend we just crammed everything in garbage bags knowing full well that everything was going to have to be washed once we got home. After we got out of there and home, we realized that Mattie May's full can of formula had soaked up that smell and had to be thrown out. Even the air mattress made of rubber, plastic, or whatever, had the odor attached permantly attached to it and after laying out across the fence for a week, had to be thrown out.

Months later, as we were cleaning out the cookshack, the odor still lingered. Even leaving the doors and windows open didn't help. Everytime I smell that stench now, my throat closes up and I get sick to my stomach. But the weird thing is, every time we think about it we start laughing. Isn't it strange how some of the worst experinces in our lives become some of our favorite stories to tell and pass down. Even though Mattie May was too young to remember, I know I will tell the story to her enough that she will be able to tell her children and grandchildren. "Thank Lord for the time we are given with our family and even the bad bad situations that turn into funny memories. And thank you for not letting that little guy get in the building!"