When we walk in the woods, we let the elder pack members roam free. Because of Floyd’s knee injury, right now, that means Sara and Meadow and occasionally Rosie are the only ones with these exclusive rights. In case you’ve lost count, we currently have eight dogs at the Farnival, three fosters and five family members.
Meadow and Sara thrive on their time exploring in the woods, leaping, bounding, chasing, and digging. Sometimes I don’t see them the entire time I’m walking the leashed dogs. But when I call their names, normally within five to twenty minutes, they dash through the gate.
They’ve come back covered in fox or deer poop, briars, and thorns. They’ve even come back limping or with cuts and scratches, but they’ve never come home smelling like skunk… until yesterday.
On our second lap, Meadow and Sara came tearing by us on a trail we named North Vine, and their musky stench instantly overwhelmed us. I groaned, heard Mason say something like WTF. Both of the dogs started frantically rolling in the snow, tunneling their snouts through snow and leave piles. The skunk’s spray had already started irritating their skin and maybe their eyes.
They’ve each had their eyes rinsed out with warm water and two baths with a mixture of Dawn dish detergent and Tecnu, an over-the-counter liquid that removes poison oak, ivy and skunk oils from clothes, fur, and skin. They definitely smell better than they initially did when they returned from their skunk hunt, but that potent stink still lingers.
Last night, for the first time since we adopted them, Meadow and Sara weren’t allowed to sleep in our bed.