she's just saying...

Skunk work

 

My brother's "conservation of bustedness" theory goes something like:  when you fix something, something else has to break, to keep the level of bustedness balanced. So of course when I fixed my car headlight (for the third time in three years), the burnt out driveway light, the leaking hose faucet and the screen door where Bindi busted through, something big had to go wrong. Which is that a skunk moved in under the deck.

Actually, I think a critter has been living there for some time as my previous dog showed a lot of interest in that corner of the deck, but I always assumed it was a family of brave mice (given the cat ratio in the neighborhood). But the other evening, I saw a large skunk waddling around checking for possible compost leavings before he scooted back under the deck again. Because as you know, skunks are crepuscular. (One of those cool words you learn in a wildlife museum. Look it up.)

After an initial panic, I called a number of wildlife control companies. Oddly enough, none of them seemed very eager to help me with this problem. The first one quoted me an astronomical figure to dig all around the deck and install chicken wire. When I expressed surprise at the price, he asked me if I just moved here from Mexico. Random, and belligerent, so I moved on. The second guy made and broke an appointment, then confessed he wasn't really comfortable with skunks, in spite of being certified by Oregon Wildlife to remove them. The third said he'd trap it for $180. However, due to state laws, he'd either have to release it on the property or euthanize it, neither of which work for me.

It all seems too much to deal with, frankly.  So I'm contemplating the live and let live approach.

Pepe Le Pew hasn't bothered us yet, really. If he's been around for awhile, he's got to be a pretty comfortable with our family;  kids, dogs, cats and I all hang around on the deck and back patio. I spray the hose and entertain, Bindi barks and pees, cats sprawl and kids pound across it while yelling and shooting water guns. Or maybe he's a really sound sleeper.

The potential downside is that Bindi, who isn't the sharpest pencil in the box but has plenty of enthusiasm, will spot it and chase. I've had dogs skunked before and lived through it, but it's no fun for anyone. While I'm figuring out what to do, I've researched the best skunk smell removal formula and laid in some hydrogen peroxide, just in case.

I've started a mild harassment program to gently convince the skunk that he'd be more comfortable elsewhere. Various suggestions I've found include sticking balls of ammonia-soaked rags under the deck, applying cayenne pepper solution around the den, putting dirty socks by the entrance (I'll need Henry's assistance with that one), installing a flashing red beacon or using commercial "predator urine" repellents. In the meantime, I've trained a light on the entrance to his den and am thinking about playing a radio there all day. Rap music, probably. Or heavy metal - that would make me move.

It's the way you tell it...

Do you know that joke about the comedians who know each other's jokes so well that they refer to them by number?* That's how I feel about my blog these days. Anything I have to say I've already said. I'm currently on vacation back east. Rocking chairs in the Asheville airport: blogged. Summer in North Carolina: here. Life at the beach in Connecticut: done. Fireworks in Bend and the butte catching fire: covered. Been there, blogged that every year. And I really have nothing new to say about any of it.

I'm not complaining, really. There's something to be said for patterns, rituals, tradition. The word I'm using these days is stable. My life is stable. It's where we are right now. A confluence of circumstances - work, Henry, money, single status - are combining to keep my life on a repeating cycle with little variation. I know this is temporary in the scheme of my life. Enough has happened to me in the past that I can coast for a few years without turmoil. I know change  will come again. I know that some will be positive and exhilarating, some not so much.

Meanwhile, I think I'll put this blog on hold for a bit, until I find inspiration in the day-to-day again. I might post a recipe or two, or share some photos via my new super-cool Android phone, but I'm not going to write regularly. I've been wrestling with guilt about not posting and I really don't need more guilt in my life, on top of not walking the dog enough or drilling Henry on multiplying fractions during the summer. I think I'll end for now with a recent comment I received that maybe says it all:

Air Max1 said...

Many thanks sharing! The goal of your site is to report your lifetime and show your personal thoughts. Several thought tend to be specific with me yet incredibly exceptional. What you would like to supply to the modern-day society, I do think I have already been acknowledged that. As long as all of us do good and assume that.

 

Um, thanks, Air Max1! Same back at'cha. Ciao for now.

 

*Oh, the joke:

Three comedians are shooting the breeze at the back of a nightclub after a late gig. They’ve heard one another’s material so much, they’ve reached the point where they don’t need to say the jokes anymore to amuse each other – they just need to refer to each joke by a number. “Number 37!” cracks the first comic, and the others break up. “”Number 53!” says the second guy, and they howl. Finally, it’s the third comic’s turn. “44!” he quips. He gets nothing. “What?” he asks, “Isn’t 44 funny?” “Sure, it’s usually hilarious,” they answer. “But the way you tell it…”