"What followed next was wretched. 'Twas not another cat, but a cute little black and white creature. The smell hit seconds later and the creature disappeared into the corn. We had been skunkified."
And now, for the continuation to
Smelly Cat:
Realising what had just happened and knowing that I'd never be able to get to the store smelling like a skunk (and believe me when I say that I
know how well my car can hold an odor), I kept my cool and walked Daisy over to my house. As soon as we hit the grass, she started to roll, but I managed to get her up to my front door and tie her leash around a post. I hastily entered the house, grabbed the cordless phone and the dog leashes, hooked up the dogs and brought them outside with me to figure out what to do next. I called my parents and asked them to pick up some tomato juice at the store and told them the news.
About 25 minutes later, my parents arrived and Daisy was sequestered in her kennel, but since my dogs had gotten close and sniffed her, I didn't want to take any chances. The three of us (my dogs and I) had waited patiently in the mosquito-filled night for my parents to give us the sniff test.
After smelling Lucky and Chess individually, Dad concluded that only Lucky had small traces of skunk-funk in her hair. Moving on to me, Dad smelled my hair, neck and hands and deemed me safe to return inside. But when I came inside and recanted the story, I couldn't help but smell the horrible aroma follow me. Mum sniffed my legs and said she didn't smell anything, but Dad told me that I should probably stay on the safe side and use the tomato juice.
Now, I'm sure that most of you have never had the joy of bathing yourself in tomato juice, so I will have to be very clear: tomato juice
in no way feels or smells erotic, especially when cold. If your significant other ever suggests dousing yourself in a food substance to "spice things up", I urge you to look elseware. Go with the cliched whipped creme and chocolate sauce.
Never let him or her douse you with tomato juice, regardless of its temperature.
It will only intensify his or her craving for a grilled cheese sandwich. And that will only leave you sexually frustrated.*
Imagine, if you will, taking a cold shower, rubbing shampoo in your hair and soap all over your body. Now, replace the water, shampoo and soap in the scenario with tomato juice. That's right. Recall, if you please, the texture of said juice. Remember, it's not the same light and refreshing liquid as apple juice; it's about as thick as the soup variety. Now, once again, imagine massaging that soup into your hair, down to your scalp. Use the loofah and drench your legs and arms in the sauce. And don't get it in your eyes when you wash your face with it.
Grossed out? Yeah. Me too. That's why my shower lasted a good 40 minutes and ended with me vigorously shampooing my hair with three different shampoos and one extra-pretty smelling conditioner.
As for the dog, we dumped her in the stand-pipe, doused her in tomato juice and rinsed her off. Quick three minute procedure and she was ready to shake.
She still smells, but heck, she's not my dog.
*I can only imagine one scenario in which these circumstances could prove fruitful, but unless you and yours have an unhealthy appetite for tomato juice and are
very multitalented, it's best to be avoided.
So there you go. Two shoeboxes full of envelopes, brochures, letters, itineraries and SASEs to Bike & Build. 139 of each, to be exact.
