The skunks have been breeding, and last night they arrived with three itty bitty babies. At one point all three were in the supper dish, squealing and munching. One ran off but the other two remained until every last Max Cat morsel was gone. They were swirling around like a moving Yin Yang symbol. It was a bit dark and I didn't want to get too close, so these pix are the best I could do.
Esmeralda is obsessed with the skunks. She isn’t allowed out front, where the Great Skunk Meetings occur. But if she hears one on the back yard, she must race down the hill, find it, and engage it in conversation.
She probably thinks it’s another of her cats.
She barks and barks and barks. She is deaf to all my calls. All that training and treats? Forget it. She’s busy with a skunk.
Last night she heard one and I dragged her back before she could engage. I put her in her pen for the night. This morning when I got up she wasn’t in her pen. She was somewhere down the hill, barking barking barking.
I called. I used my command voice. I held a treat. Nothing. Barkbarkbarkbarkbark.
I called some more. Refined the command voice.
Barkbarkbarkbarkbark. And finally a happy yip, and up she came. Skunked again, and pleased as could be.
She did not get her treat.
Here she is, after her bath.
Is it just me, or does she look very happy to you?
I have a theory that she loves the skunks and she loves getting sprayed, and she pretty much loves the bath spa treatment that follows her encounters.
But I’d prefer to not start my day with a quart of hydrogen peroxide with a baking soda Mrs. Meyers chaser.
I think I need a higher gate for her pen.