THAT FOOD IS FOR THE CAT!The Tale of an Aromatic Intruder |
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By Pat Yeo, ValleyPetNew.com guest columnis
We met in my kitchen one evening. I was watching television in the living room when I heard a noise from the other room. It sounded like our cat, Henrygirl, eating her food, but it couldn’t be. Henrygirl was at that very moment on my lap, snoozing comfortably.
My husband and I talked about this for the rest of the evening with great agitation. What should we do? We could close up the cat door (an obvious option), but then Henrygirl wouldn’t be able to get in and out. I don’t want to suggest that our cat is spoiled, but from the moment she first appeared on our back porch several years earlier to adopt us, she had made it quite clear that this arrangement would be in her terms. We tried to make her an indoor cat, but she would have no part of it. Soon we were installing cat doors, and the matter was settled.
We
also closed the cat door. I
believe this could be called closing the barn door after the horse has
been stolen. Henrygirl did
not care for the fact that her door was closed and had us up and down all
night, letting her in, letting her out.
It really didn’t matter much, because we certainly weren’t
sleeping well. The smell was
overpowering. We
came to the conclusion that this particular skunk had become very fond of
our home (and food) and probably was not going to go away on its own.
We were going to have to take action. We
talked to everyone we knew – the vet, pet stores, people at work,
strangers on the street – hoping to find someone who could give us good
advice as to how to proceed. Someone
suggested tomato juice. Great. What are we supposed to do with it? Wash the walls and carpets with it? Lay inside the cat door and throw it on the skunk when it
comes back? Someone else said
to use vinegar. We filled a
spray bottle with vinegar and went room to room, spraying everything in
sight. It seemed to help at
first, but soon (very soon) the odor was back. Obviously,
we still also had the problem of the skunk itself. How were we going to get this skunk out of our lives?
We didn’t want it dead, but we did want it gone.
Our inquiries eventually led us to the Humane Society.
They said they had a solution. We
picked up a Skunk Trap from their offices.
This was a large, heavy box with a wire contraption at one end to
hold the bait. On this wire,
we were to hook the bait – tuna or bacon wrapped in cheesecloth. Theoretically the skunk would go into the box after the bait
and the door would slam down, trapping it inside.
The jolly fellow at the Humane Society told us that we could then
either call them to pick it up or just put the box in our car and bring it
to them and they would take care of relocating the skunk.
PUT IT IN OUR CAR?! Was
he kidding? He assured us
that once the skunks are in the box, they hardly ever spray. The words “hardly ever” concerned us. We decided that we would have them come pick up the box. Now
we have the trap, we have the bait, but we also have another problem here.
There’s no doubt that if we set this trap, our Henrygirl will be
the first one in it. So, off
to the vet she went. She
really did need a bath anyway, so this seemed like a good opportunity. We
spent another terrible night. Was
this skunk now standing outside our bedroom window spraying all night
long, or was this residual from the original blast?
It was impossible to tell. Certainly
the hot weather wasn’t helping any either.
We were getting quite cranky with each other. The
following morning there was nothing in the trap. The smell was worse.
We put fresh bait in again the following night, arranged for
Henrygirl to sleep over another night at the vets and spent another night
tossing and turning, trying to breathe through our mouths.
In the morning the trap remained empty. By
now, I was more than just a little testy at work, what with the loss of
sleep and the relentless smell of skunk in my nostrils. Co-workers were
starting to avoid me. All I
could talk about was that skunk. Someone
suggested trying a pest control person.
I was on the phone immediately.
The fellow agreed to come over. He
came that afternoon. “Sure
does smell bad in here” he offered as he walked through the house.
He went down into our basement with a flashlight and came
immediately back up. “There’s a dead skunk down there.
Do you want me to get it out?”
(No, we like it. . .OF COURSE WE WANT YOU TO GET IT OUT!).
He said that health regulations prevented him from doing so.
Money exchanged hands. He
went out to his truck and returned some time later, wearing protective
clothing, looking like something out of Ghostbusters. Down into the basement he went.
When he returned with the skunk, he inquired if we wanted to take a
look. No thanks. The
spray he used in the house
afterwards was good, very good. We
absolutely could not smell skunk any more.
The house smelled much like an Orange Julius factory when he was
done, but thankfully the skunk smell was gone and it did not return. We
were concerned about the cause of death of this skunk.
Had it been injured? Had
it eaten bad food? We threw
out the rest of the food and water in Henrygirl’s dish.
Obviously we’ll never know for sure, but we eventually came to
the conclusion that this particular skunk had probably been sick when it
first wandered into our house, looking for some food, water, and a
comfortable place to die. It gives us a bit of comfort to think that we provided that.
Our
lives are back to normal. Our
house smells fresh and lovely. We now keep our cat door closed at night
and keep Henrygirl in. She
doesn’t like it much and usually has us up at daybreak (much earlier
than we care to arise) to let her out. Whenever we find ourselves being
annoyed by this, we remember “our” skunk.
Getting up early to let the cat out is a very small price to pay. (Written years ago.) |