On dogs, skunks, and technology
Earlier today I wrote a completely nonacademic post about my dog Bachelor's encounter with a skunk yesterday morning and the consequences of that encounter for my day. If I say so myself, it was an interesting description not only of what it takes to clean up a skunked dog and carpets the skunked dog has rolled on (yes, I know I never should have let him into the house) but also of my family's history with Bachelor--who, by the way, is named after Mt. Bachelor and also after his condition in life.
Unfortunately, I accidentally published this post twice, and when I tried to remove one of the posts I inadvertently removed them both. Hence the inclusion of technology in my title.
I thought I'd include this shortened version just to show that academics do think about things other than their research.
posted by Lisa Ede @ 2:53 PM
9 comments
9 Comments:
You let him into the house?!
I can see from your recent visit to my blog (where you posted the same comments three times) that you are having a wee bit of trouble mastering the posting part of blogging. But we have faith that you will get it down soon enough.
Let me see if I have got this straight. Academics think about things other than their research. Like dogs. Clearly, they are well-rounded people.
Hope
Yep, all of a sudden I'm having trouble--though I can't quite figure out why. Sorry about the multiple postings!
As for letting Bachelor into the house: it was 5AM, pitch black outside, and we don't have a fenced yard. I didn't see how I had a choice.
If an animal stinks, you have a choice.
Just takes practice.
Hope
Dear Hope,
Practice is the very LAST thing I want to have with this particular problem!
Lisa: My mention of practice was in reference to your eventual mastering of the comment function in Blogger. I agree with you that one does not want to spend a great deal of time with stinky dogs.
Hope
Gotcha, Hope!
I sometimes trap skunks by accident when I'm after cats (I trap ferals for spay/neuter). I have skunk gear, including a tarp, goggles, and plastic bags I wrap my feet and hair with when releasing skunks. Usually they've already sprayed and do not attempt it again when I am releasing them.
I remember trapping at this warehouse and the kind old night watchman decided he'd get all the cats I'd trapped out to the front of the warehouses ready for me to take the spay clinic to save my tired back. He said all he saw in this one trap, out in a back warehouse, was a black and white "cat". It was dawn and that can make vision fuzzy. He pulled off the cage cover and the skunk in the trap blasted him right in the face. His wife made him undress outside the house and take his clothes to the burn pile. While still naked he retrieved a gas can his wife had set out front, with matches, and doused the clothes with gas. Then, he struck a match to the pile. After they'd burned he hosed himself down, still naked, out in the yard, while his wife encouraged his efforts through a window. Only then would she let him inside.
I returned fixed cats once to a back room at the same warehouse, for them to recuperate after surgery. It was about midnight and I was exhausted. I came back out the screen door and started down the steps. There were concrete steps down to a slab that once had been a carport. Coming up those steps, however, was a skunk who hoisted his tail up and back over his head ready to blast me when he nearly ran into me coming down the steps. I instinctively dove out of the way but unfortunately I dove off the steps onto that concrete, slamming into it first with one knee. The skunk hightailed it off through the grass fields. I mocked his missed shot as he ran, although I then could not get up off that concrete and lay there for three hours in agony until the Aleve I always carry in a pocket took effect enough that I could crawl to my car and wrap my knee in duct tape. It was rather pathetic, I'd say, looking back, but the skunk did miss me. I think that's the important part of this story.
That is quite a story.
In the 1930s version of The Count of Monte Cristo, the count calls out epithets of the men he hopes to revenge himself upon, "Blackguard!” Scoundrel!” He goes blank. "Skunk!" suggests his faithful retainer.
Hope
Thanks so much for sharing your skunk encounter stories, onlythelonely. Paul Bausch, co-developer of Blogger, mentioned to me recently that he had been reading your blog and has found it fascinating. I can see why.
Your work trapping cats and having them spayed is important--and your willingness to take time (and risk being sprayed by a skunk) is very generous. I'm pretty sure you do your cat hunting in Corvallis, OR, which is where I live. (I'm not asking you to identify where you live, though.) So thanks for this effort.
If I'd had any sense at all, I would have responded to my dog after he was sprayed the way the wife of the night watchman did.
Unfortunately, I seem to lack common sense, especially at 5AM in the morning!
Post a Comment
<< Home