Just when I had begun to think that life couldn’t get any better, both dogs came in smelling of skunk. The odor is so strong, I can’t even fool myself into thinking that the smell is remarkably like good marijuana. It isn’t. It smells like skunk.
Now Maggie is asleep in the doorway, using the threshold as a pillow, her “gift” wafting through the house. Luckily, Max is sleeping in the road—a good distance from the house—where he belongs.
“When you are a skunk you learn to hold your breath for a long time.”
~ Pepé le Pew
88° and Clear but Smelly