I love my dogs. Really, I do.
We spoil them all. I spend way too much on the vet bills, and probably more on dog treats than is fiscally responsible.
The current pair, Khloe and Pluto, are uber spoiled. They wake me at 5:30 a.m. for a walk even on days I don’t have to go to work (on work days, we get up at 5:15 so they walk before I prepare for the day).
We let them up on our bed — don’t judge me! I have bug zappers all over the house because we usually leave the back door open so they can go in and out as they please (don’t show this to any burglars).
Most of the time, this all works out fine. I have a tall, tall fence to keep them in and people out. They might bark when the occasional squirrel gets into one of our trees, and Pluto still digs for buried treasure, but we’re doing okay.
Except.
Khloe is the older, and normally the smarter, of the two. She’s a retriever mix, about 9 years old, and pretty much rules the house. She tells me — loudly — when it’s time for a treat, and Pluto has learned when to stay out of her way.
This is all to preface what Khloe did to me last night.
The lovely Maria is out of town, attending a granddaughter’s high school graduation, then visiting other family members. That means the dogs are left with me, and they hang a little closer than normal when I’m actually at home — typically when I’m asleep in bed.
It was about 12:30 a.m. when I was shaken awake by a dog rooting around on the comforter next to me.
“Maybe it’s just Khloe getting comfortable,” I thought. Then I breathed in.
Clearly, Khloe had chased a skunk out of the backyard. She was trying to rub the spray off her muzzle and onto the comforter, the sheets and anything else that she could find.
The good news was that she hadn’t caught a full stream of skunk spray. The bad news was that she still was, as the song says, stinking to high heaven.
Sadly, I am an experienced dog-sprayed-by-skunk handler. A previous dog had caught one on a walk and got it full in the face. That was an ordeal shared with the lovely Maria.
But she was several states away this time and I was on my own.
I knew that the whole tomato juice bath thing is an urban myth that doesn’t work. The answer is a mixture of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda and dish soap, or a high-end dog shampoo.
So I got up and pulled the hydrogen peroxide out of the medicine cabinet. But a 10-minute search in the kitchen failed to turn up any baking soda, and that is really the primary ingredient to a good remove-skunk-smell concoction.
Khloe had settled down some by getting the liquid off her fur, so I decided to go find a 24-hour store selling baking soda.
Have you ever tried to find baking soda at 1 a.m.? None of our North Long Beach grocery stores stay open that late. Maybe a 7-Eleven? They close at 11 p.m. Convenience stores connected to gas stations? The gas pumps take credit cards, but the stores are closed.
I finally found a 24-hour drug store (thank you, Walgreens) that carries some basic household stuff too. Pricey baking soda and pricier dog shampoo in hand, I made it back home.
Khloe and I commenced to have a water fight in the bathroom as Pluto scratched on the bathroom door, clearly wanting to get in on the fun. I knew there was a reason I installed that detachable showerhead with a hose – it worked well to get to Khloe’s undercarriage.
After 20 minutes or so and some extremely dirty towels, Khloe checked and found herself acceptable, at least odor-wise. Pluto offered his approval, and I had to admit she didn’t smell too bad.
Then I walked into the bedroom.
I cranked the industrial fan to its highest setting, installed new air fresheners, grabbed all the bedding and shut the door. Comforter, throw blanket and towels got the first wash. By that time, it was closer to 3 than to 2:30, but I decided a nap in the spare bedroom was warranted.
No, I didn’t let the dogs in.
The alarm went off at 5:15 and the heavy stuff went into the dryer, sheets in the washer, before I took the dogs for their walk. We saw another skunk across the street (it is spring and skunk season, you know), but little interest was shown by either party.
As I write this, the sheets are hanging on the line outside, the blankets are going through another dry cycle and the dogs are sleeping soundly. I’ve checked, and I don’t seem to have any skunk smell, so I’ll head to work, another dog adventure completed.
I love my dogs. Really, I do.