Photo: Jack Bulmer

MODERN DAD | By Jon Show

Feb. 7. There’s a skunk in our neighborhood that has been wreaking havoc on us for years.

Wreaking havoc might be a strong statement but it’s a skunk and it smells terrible and there’s something very displeasing about growing used to the smell of fresh skunk spray most mornings when I walk the dog.

How do I know it’s fresh skunk spray and not just skunk spray? All skunk spray smells, but if it’s fresh it’s almost like you can taste it. It’s pretty, pretty gross.

Most of Robbins Park is surrounded by conservation land so you need to have some tolerance of animals to live here.

There’s lots of deer and a really shocking number of rabbits.

There’s a grey fox. Two red-tailed hawks that live by the pond. Ducks. Geese. We get the occasional coyote, which sends everyone with a dog the size of a squirrel into a panic.

I really like being surrounded by all of them except the skunk.

Stink bomb

I’ve seen the skunk once or twice but we largely avoided any contact until last summer, when I let Lightning out before bedtime.

I saw a little black outline the size of a fat cat hopping along the road, but before I could say anything, the damage was done.

The skunk sprayed and the dog came running back to me and before it got anywhere near me I knew she was tainted.

It was a warm summer night so I led her around the house, put her on the back porch with her bed and went inside, hoping she’d sleep outside so I could just deal with it in the morning.

Alas, she’s a doodle, which is basically a hairy person that society allows to poop outside, so she whined until I went back outside and slept next to her on the couch, inhaling skunk smell with every breath.

Once the sun rose I walked her across the street, de-skunked her with a mixture of baking soda and dish soap, and tossed both of us into the lake to rinse off.

Two nights later the skunk nearly got Lightning again but I yelled her name before she sprinted after it. The skunk still tooted a little but it didn’t get her. It was like a little smelly warning toot.

Smell of fear

Flash forward six months later to the ice storm we had in January.

I saw the skunk twice across the street that night. The first was when I went to let out Lightning around dinnertime so we stayed inside. Later that night I let her out before bed and the skunk was on the sidewalk again so I waited another ten minutes until it was gone.

When I went out the next morning to walk the dog there was skunk smell everywhere in the neighborhood, almost like there was something wrong with the little stinker.

The weekend passed and I woke up Monday morning to a text from the Mother of Dragons that read, “Skunk is dead across the street by your truck. Oddly no smell.”

I arose, put on a shirt and shoes and my glasses, and walked outside to a scene that was described quite perfectly in her text.

I walked back in the house, grabbed my Red Rider BB gun, handed it to the Blonde Bomber and took a picture of her in front of the dead skunk. In the picture she is smiling, holding the BB gun in one hand and a waffle with the other. I sent it to my friends.

Odor in the court

Hours passed and I was planning to dump the carcass in the woods even though it was on HOA property, but I wasn’t touching it until I was sure wasn’t in some weird skunk hibernation.

As I worked and occasionally checked on it out the window, I wondered if skunks were like dogs? Do all skunks go to heaven? Do skunks get a rainbow bridge? Do skunks have emotions, like remorse for what they’ve done?

Somewhere around 5pm I made a sign that said “RIP Pepe Le Pew. 2005-2025” and stuck it in the ground behind the skunk because, why not? Then I posted it on Facebook:

“RIP Pepe Le Pew. He terrorized our loop for years and even got me and the dog last summer but we send him up with forgiveness. Feel free to drop by a remembrance – he froze to death so he doesn’t stink or nothing.”

I drove my daughter to practice that night and while I was gone my friend Anthony, known in these pages as Anthony, dropped off a bouquet of flowers next to Pepe’s RIP sign. I added two battery powered tea lights because it just seemed like the right thing to do.

Smell the roses

The next two days were a whirlwind of emotion regarding my ad hoc skunk memorial.

First there was a mylar balloon with the word LOVE on it. Then someone added two more balloons with messages of condolences. Someone else added a funeral bouquet with a card that read, “RIP Pepe, we love and miss you.”

My desk faces the window, and vehicle after vehicle slowed down to take in the memorial. Many of them snapped pictures.

I walked outside repeatedly to see if anyone had dropped off anything and delighted in each new addition.

Alas, the memorial was powerful but short-lived. I ran to a meeting on day three and when I returned the memorial was still there but the skunk was gone, presumably removed by animal control.

Aroma therapy

I texted a picture of the now skunk-less memorial to my family.

If you ever want to know if you’ve married your person after twenty years, build a memorial to a dead skunk and get so excited about it that your wife responds thusly:

“I hate that you missed the removal.”

Again, she perfectly described the moment.

After the skunk was removed I thought about going to the store to buy a stuffed animal skunk to place at the memorial but that seemed like a little much. Like maybe I was taking my dead skunk memorial a little too far, you know?

I spent the rest of the day in mourning. There was an absence in my soul. Not over the death of the skunk, but over the fact that I was not able to further curate my skunk memorial.

I hope that Pepe knows he was loved, if only in death. I hope he knows he left a void that I fear I cannot fill.

Unless something else around here dies. I have a prayer candle arriving from Amazon that I can’t return and needs to be put to good use.

Jon Show lives in Robbins Park with his wife, who he calls “The Mother of Dragons.” Their 16-year-old son is “Future Man” and their 11-year-old daughter is “The Blonde Bomber.” Their dog is actually named Lightning.