HOLLY NADLER

508-274-2329

(hollynadler@gmail.com)

It’s been a month since my dog got slimed by a skunk, and I’m now prepared to render a full debriefing:

First, let it be said that a lot of townsfolk assured me, “Don’t feel badly, my dog has been skunked four or five times this summer.”

I was touched by this obvious empathy, and a great deal of bona fide tips were given, but my pooch smelled just as badly. In fact, Jan Pogue e-mailed to supply the following demoralizing head’s up: “Our dog was sprayed months ago, but on rainy days she still reeks.”

True enough. Four weeks and 19 shampoos later, my dog smells fresh as a marguerite daisy unless the rains come to regenerate those freeze-dried skunk-juice particles that waft unseen in the air, waiting for moisture to plump them up again.

This early morning on a dreary grey and drizzly daybreak, I lay in bed as usual, lying motionless to ward against my dog waking up too early, packed under the covers as he was, and sending out equal amounts of furry warmth and loud schmoosh-faced snores. Finally, he stirred and slowly, isometrically, poked his face through the covers, revealing only round maple brown eyes, and a black puffball of a nose. It would have been the cutest sight imaginable if a great yeasty skunk odor, tinged with a bunch of shampoos, hadn’t wafted aloft with it.

What had befallen him? Simple: It was around nine o’clock at night, we walked south along Circuit toward town. Truth be told, I wasn’t paying much attention, not having received any skunk sprays since Huxley was a puppy nearly six years ago (whooshed out from under a car parked behind the Union Chapel). Now I realize we should equip ourselves with infra-red goggles and maybe walkie-talkies as we signal each other from checkpoints on rooftops: “Black-and-white at one o’clock, corner of Lake and Kennebec, do you copy?”

Hux was on an extendable leash. All of a sudden he lunged forward with a growl, I caught a gleam of a raised furry tail and instantly the smell of chemical warfare reamed the dark street. I hustled Hux home, sleeve across my face, thanking my lucky stars that only a couple of weeks before, my summer neighbors David and Claudette Crohan had given me their Skunk Off! shampoo and spray before going home to Florida (yes, David’s exquisite service dog, the apricot-colored poodle, Walker, had received a snooker-full in August).

Well, it’s not as easy as that, of course. Huxley went right into the bathtub, and both sets of treatments were applied, but you don’t get it all out in one filtration and then the pet leaves little smears all over the textiles of the house – carpet, sofas, pillows; you keep finding them on rainy days — so you prepare to buckle down and stink for a good while, canceling play dates, both for yourself and your dog, postponing everything in the not-so-off chance that you’ll offend.

What I found out, thanks to feed-back from friends, both in person and on Facebook, is that all dogs’ varying chemistries combine idiosyncratically with different treatments. For instance, Hux’s fur responded best to Johnson & Johnson’s Baby Shampoo (note: This is not product placement, just a reporting of fact), the upholstery to the Skunk Off! spray.

And here’s something to write down and stick to the fridge — the secret formula for the special home brew remedy sent to me from an LA buddy: Combine 1/4 cup baking soda with one bottle of hydrogen peroxide and one ounce degreasing dishwashing detergent. I think you’re supposed to concoct this at the last minute because anything with the word “hydrogen” in it sounds a trifle explosive. I didn’t get a chance to experiment with this, but I’ve got the ingredients on hand because, let’s face it, we’re fooling ourselves to think this is a one-off experience, and that skunks don’t lurk everywhere that we crunch over pizza crusts on the sidewalks.

Skunks do hibernate in the winter, right?

One last “cute” skunk story before we get down to brass tacks: Around the time that Huxley had been defiled, Paula Catanese was at home during the day when she called her Maine coon cat, wondering why he resisted coming inside. She checked the yard and saw him standing at the back fence, side by side with a skunk, truly rubbing elbows with it. Paula, nervous for Alexander’s well-being, continued to call and slowly approached, slowly, slowly, until at last she leaned down to pick up the tubby cat in her arms. The skunk stared at her and its new best friend with calm resignation. Paula got the coon cat back inside and carefully closed the door.

O.B. merchants: It’s not too late to order your charter school scarecrow to last through Halloween and even Thanksgiving. You’ll recall from years past that the kids make fabulous, bigger-than-life creatures. This year’s theme is Literary Scarecrows (oh right! only three and a half years after my bookstore closed; I would have ordered up a Kingsley Amis model just to see what they came up with). Each artiste/student is eligible in a lottery for an iPad. These kids must be really motivated this year! For more info, e-mail director of development Paul Karasik at paulkerasik@gmail.com.

There’s a kitty missing with photos of its adorable black-and-white self tacked up all about town. If you’ve seen this tuxedo’ed crit, call 508-693-1090.

And don’t forget, if you haven’t already done so, to check into adult education classes at acemv.org or e-mail director Lynn Ditchfield at lynn@acemv.org, her phone 508-693-1033, extension 240.