The Skunk

 

I had returned to Reading to start my sophomore year at university after two years in Germany.

My husband had three more months to serve in the 82nd Army Band and had stayed in Stuttgart.

I was living with my in-laws, sleeping in my husband's childhood bedroom. With me, was Kimm, our adolescent German Shepherd.

Kimm and I had spent the evening with my mother and grandmother. An old boyfriend had dropped by to say hello and we were all reminiscing.

Kimm was thrilled to be outside and exploring. My family had 14 acres of land and I knew she wouldn't drift far. Because we'd lived in the city, running free was a novelty for her.

My mother had lit a fire and as we were chatting, we heard her yip and howl and then scratch desperately at the door. 

One quick inhale we knew she'd lost a battle with a skunk.

We bathed her in all the tomato juice and shampoo on hand and my old boyfriend drove me home. 

Despite the cold October air, the windows were down. Odor de Skunk had permeated our clothes.

Back at my in-laws, I changed into non-smelly pajamas and took my stinky clothes outside and left them on the front stairs.

The next morning, I met the cold eyes of my normally loving mother-in-law and my brother-in-law's somber expression.

Only when I explained that I hadn't come home drunk and undressed outside did they sympathize. They did suggest the next time I not leave my stinky clothes where the neighbors couldn't see them.