You will notice that Fletcher is getting a bath in these pictures. It is notable that this is his second bath in about six months and also his second bath this week. It is also notable that he is not getting his typical citronella flea and tick shampoo. No, he is getting the special treatment. We went all out and bought him all the fixins for a ten course V8 massage. That's right. Fletcher is getting a bath because he decided to play with a skunk.We didn't see the skunk and we didn't have to. The smell would have alerted us if Fletcher's appearance hadn't. We were at a friend's house and Fletcher was doing the usual hunt-outside-for-spiders routine. After some time, Rachel called down to the basement inquiring what Fletcher might get into that would turn him yellow (that's right Lisa, skunks will turn you yellow). I offered a hopeful solution that he had been rollicking in dandelions and I was starting to convince myself of this until I hit the wall of stench that is unmistakably skunk. Actually, that was the only time I smelled skunk. After I went outside to check on the cowering yellow Fletcher, my nose went into hyperspace. I took a whiff and realized that I had never really smelled a skunk before.
Fletcher's special treatment started with a ride home in the back of the pic
kup. It would've been fun for him except that it was so cold out. He also didn't appreciate being stuffed in a borrowed cat kennel and covered with an old blanket to keep him warm. He was a desperate, stinky dog when we got home. We bought eight big cans of tomato juice on the way home. I only used one can in the end, but that was enough to bath him seven times plus a regular shampoo, another three V8 baths, and a final shampoo. He still smells a little. I am glad that he didn't get it directly in the face and I'm pretty sure he is too. I'd like to say that he has learned his lesson, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know what happened.I don't think the other seven cans of tomato juice will be consumed for a good while. Rachel doesn't like it and I can only stomach a 6oz glass every few months (and that was before I rubbed down a cold, skunky dog with it ten times).
For those of you who didn't feel like reading about skunks and decided to skip to the good part, I've included a picture of Ella. You will have to guess what she is doing in this picture, but I'll give you a hint. She is either
- Pulling off her sock with the most contemplation she can muster
- Showing her disgusted unbelief that Fletcher would play with a skunk and not invite her to join in the fun
- Trying to decide what a blog is and why Fletcher's picture is worthy of posting.
6 comments:
My condolences to Fletcher
I think she's wishing she could have the V8 bath instead of Fletcher. There are women who probably pay hundreds of dollars to get vegetable bi-products slathered all over themselves.
Or, she's singing the Mr. Roger's theme in her head as she changes her footwear in preparation to enter the house and change her sweater. I don't think Mr. Roger's wore pink, yellow, and green striped sweaters though. He might not have been as popular a show if he had. Maybe it would have been called "Mr. Roger's Geighborhood" then.
Andy (Janell takes no credit for this post)
Fletcher really doesn't like baths to start with, so this was pretty unpleasant. I do GREATLY appreciate Steve's willingness to give Fletch his baths (I had given him his regular bath earlier that week), though he needed to de-scent his hands anyways from picking up the Fletch to put him in the back of the pick-up. The house has the lingering odor of eau de skunk for about a week (if you try really hard, you can still smell it once in a while).
Ella is still fascinated with the Fletch in spite of his smell. She's probably trying to figure out what he's doing in her photo.
Great job explaining the situation - it was definitely more entertaining to read about it than to experience it!
Steve, only a badinage expert like myself can detect the slightest flag in hilarity in that last post. I love those pictures of the Fletch looking so small in the tub.
Is Fletcher licking his chops as Steve pours the tomato juice upon his back?
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