Whether the skunk was a poor aim, or our Great Pyrenees exhibited unusual footspeed, we will never know how or why he successfully (mostly) evaded the skunk spray. But he did (mostly).
Did you know there is a more technical term for "skunk spray"? The scientific name is n-Butyl mercaptan. Which explains why we say, "skunk spray". Though, while researching, I discovered some people call it "skunk essence," which I think sounds kind of silly…as if by calling it "essence" it diminishes the offensive odor.
But whatever the correct name, one might consider us fortunate that the skunk missed (mostly). And we likely would agree…had this episode not occurred underneath our house.
Quickly recognizing chasing the skunk was a poor decision, our Pyrenees fled the scene, but both the skunk and the odor remained behind…the odor working its way upward, into our living quarters.
The odor (mostly) dissipated by opening doors and windows, running fans, and burning candles. But underneath has only one access point, and it is the one door.
I wasn't really keen on going in there to chase the skunk away, lacking both the footspeed and agility of our Pyrenees.
"Here's the plan," I told my wife, Katrina. "We put some food outside the door, leave the door open, and if tomorrow morning the food is gone, we know the skunk left."
Katrina stared at me…a stare after 35 years of marriage, I know well…the stare is saying, "I love this man…but not necessarily for his brains."
That is what her stare said, but her mouth said, "How will we know it wasn't another animal that ate it? Or ate it and didn't go back under the house?"
I thought for a second…
"Okay…here's the plan. We’ll ALSO put flour on the threshold and we'll see his footprints to know if he left."
Which we did. We did this for three days. Each morning, both the food and the flour appeared untouched. So finally, I said to Katrina, "Okay…here's the plan. I'm going in."
And I did. Very carefully checking any place a skunk might hide…ready to practice my footwork and agility on a second's notice.
But there was no skunk. When did he leave? Why were there no footprints? Why did he reject our food? These are questions to which I'll never have an answer.
News of our encounter traveled quickly, apparently because the following Sunday, after church, a friend asked, "You guys had a skunk, huh?"
"Yes, we did. How did you hear?"
"I didn't…I can smell it…everyone can smell it. You can't hide skunk spray."
The odor hadn't dissipated from our house as well as we thought; instead, we had just acclimated to the odor…and apparently, our clothing was permeated by it.
"Skunk essence," I corrected him. "Skunk ESSENCE."