While hanging out with the groomer the other day I had some time to think about a few things. One of them was why I was hanging out with the groomer in the first place. I mean there are times when he comes for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I’m fine, it’s a normal day, then out of nowhere, he shows up with that diabolical truck and the next thing I know I’m getting a bath. It’s practically assault and battery and I’m sure it would be illegal for him to pull the same stunt on the Doc. But every once in a great while he comes for a reason. This was one of those times. I would have called him myself if I knew the number.

I don’t know what gets into me, but there are certain things I just can’t resist. Like the doorbell. It rings and no matter where I am I get this irresistible urge to start barking and run to the door. It doesn’t matter if I know who’s there or not. The bell rings and I have to be there to answer it. You’d think I’d have learned to be a little more cautious by now.

The groomer is the perfect example why. He’s been here often enough for me to recognize both his truck and his scent. I even spent a few days at his house when the folks were out of town. Which was actually not bad because there were other dogs there I got along with and this big back yard with lots of hunting opportunities. Plus he didn’t try to give me a bath. But the point is I know this guy pretty well and should be able to see him coming a mile away.

Doesn’t matter. He drives up, rings the bell, I start barking and run to the door, Mom opens it, (it’s always Mom. The groomer never seems to come when the Doc’s home.), and by the time I realize it’s him it’s too late. I try to make a run for it but it never works. He puts this noose around my neck and off to the truck we go. It’s the same routine every single time. All I would have to do is take a few seconds to analyze the situation before running to the door like one of Pavlov’s pals and I’d be OK. I’d know it was him, I’d stay in the back yard, and he could come looking for me in the bushes. Maybe he’d get me, maybe not, but at least I would have put up a reasonable fight and preserved some dignity.

It was a similar lack of restraint that got me into truck this time. You know how I feel about squirrels. Well the same goes for most other furry creatures. I see one, and I immediately have to chase it. I’m not sure why. It’s not like I want to eat them or anything like that. At least I haven’t wanted to so far. Possibly because I’ve never been hungry enough. If I was out in the wilderness with no kibble or handouts from the folks it might be a different story. I mean, you never know.
Anyway, the other morning I went down to my back yard and saw something that shouldn’t have been there. Broad daylight and it was just standing there like it owned the place. It was black, bigger than a squirrel but smaller than a raccoon. That’s all the analysis I did before going on the attack. It didn’t run. That should have been a clue. It wasn’t until I was a few inches from grabbing it that I understood what was about to happen. I put on the brakes, but again, too late. Yep. Another skunk and another direct hit.

The first time it happened, years ago, shame on him. It was the middle of the night, I was half asleep, I wasn’t hunting, just minding my own business and wham! This time there was no one to blame by myself. I stunk, the whole yard stunk. Mom knew immediately what had happened. She let me in and off we went to the shower. By the time we were done I still smelled pretty bad, and so did the rest of the house. Then she called the groomer. When I heard the truck pull up and the doorbell ring I did what I always do. Bark and run to the door.

Certain things are just irresistible. I’d like to think the next time I see something furry and black sitting in my yard I’ll take a minute to figure out what, exactly, it is before trying to catch it. Probably not.


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