All my years of doggie ownership could never have prepared me for what we experienced last night.
As we took our evening walk in the hills near our house, Cash bolted toward us, foaming at the mouth, gagging and sneezing. He darted around in a panic, rubbing is face in the grass and shaking his head. I thought he might have been bitten by a rattlesnake so I wasted no time inspecting his face.
That's when it hit me. An odor so putrid, it made my eyes water and my throat constrict.
"A skunk!" I called to Keane, who was searching in the grass for a culprit.
I spotted the black and white stink bomb retreating, tail still high in defense. Its movement sparked Daphne's interest and she began to charge after it. Screaming for Keane to stop her, I realized the smell now covered my hands and clothes.
We made it back to the truck and called every dog wash in town, only to find they were all closed. We were on our own. Because we live in an apartment and don't have access to a hose, we drove to Keane's job site so we could handle our skunky boy outside.
I was thanking the sweet Lord for Google where I found information on what to do when a dog gets skunked. Apparently tomato juice is a wives' tale and only masks the odor temporarily. Instead, we used a mixture of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda and dish soap. Two hours and three applications later, our poor boy started to smell a little less like burning rubber.
Last night rivaled the time we opened the doors of Keane's truck to find (orange liquid) diarrhea EVERYWHERE because a certain boy dog had a bad tummy. And who could forget the chronic poo-rolling problem we've battled for the last 2 years?
Parenthood? You don't scare me.