You’d think I’d be used to it by now. You’d think in this howling wilderness of urban wildlife, I’d act with some kind of aplomb.

Apparently not. Tonight when I paused outside to finish the paragraph of the book I’m reading, a skunk sauntered past my leg. And by ‘past my leg’ I mean within two feet of me. It didn’t care that I was there. It was on a special skunk mission. Maybe to find the tastiest grubs. I don’t know. I froze. I watched its tail for the telltale lift that precedes the Big Stink. But nothing happened and the skunk wended its way along the side path. It totally didn’t think I was a concern.

“There was a skunk out there! It walked right past me!” I closed the door and put my book down.

E looked unimpressed. “Aren’t you, like, the skunk woman? Don’t you pet them and stuff?”

I looked at him. There was one baby skunk, about ten years ago. I coerced it into a box with a heating pad and left it with a hot water bottle to sleep on. “Okay. I petted it. But it was a little baby! It didn’t have any stink left!”

“It was a skunk,” he pointed out.

“But it was a baby! Babies are different! Babies are cute and don’t cause massive stink bombs because their stinky skunk stuff glands are small!”

He looked at me and grinned. “You just love baby animals.”

Which is totally true. But a skunk still just walked right past me! I am allowed to be a bit freaked!

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