Our dog was barking wildly outside the front door. It was morning, just after breakfast time for the babies and I had shooed two of the cats out with her to keep them from sharking me.
(Sharking is when a cat rubs against your feet wanting something and then bites you on the ankle. And no matter what you give it, it’s still not happy.)
I opened the door to see what was going on and came face to asshole with a skunk. My face to it’s giant puckering anus. Not ten feet from the door. I will never forget that gigantic round sphincter staring at me like a hungry sucking sea creature. Now, I’m known for being calm in a crisis. So I let one cat in the door behind me and picked the other one up to throw him in. Save the easiest first!
It was too late for the dog, because she ran at the skunk and was nipping at it’s ass with her face in it’s hole. I couldn’t really see the rest of the skunk beyond that because it was crouch down into the lawn, hiding behind it’s weapon of stench.
I ran inside shouting for Nick. He came out of the bathroom and looked frantic and lost at the same time.
“Take a minute and think of what you need,” I said and went back out the front door while he went down the basement stairs, I assumed for a gun.
I grabbed the smelly dog by the collar and dragged her away from the cowered skunk ass while he came around the house from the basement door carrying TWO SHOVELS.
Two shovels? Is this proper skunk procedure in Wyoming? Do they sneak up on skunks and catch them between two shovels and carry them gingerly away from the house?
“Get your gun!” is all I said and he turned around. He came back with a long range rifle with a scope. And shot at it 12 times. He explained to me afterward that you can’t aim close with something long range. So he shot up the yard around the skunk. I’m not even sure he hit it from 10 feet away. BOOM BOOM BOOM. I was starting to feel sorry for the skunk.
He walked over to it.
“It’s still breathing,” he said. And gave me another frantic and lost look.
“Then get the shovel and cut its head off, quickly.” At this point I just wanted the poor thing to pass over to the other side as soon as possible because we didn’t know if it was injured and in pain. So he went back to the basement and brought the curved shovel instead of the straight one with the sharp edge and . . . it’s was just as bad as you are imagining in your head right now. I took the dog farther away and turned my back.
Vermonters kill things in a quick merciful way. Apparently, not so in Wyoming. I am so so sorry little skunk.