Dog Days, Skunk Nights

Ms. Rachow has had a life-long affliction with four-legged creatures, and it has made her the woman she is today.

For most Santa Barbarans, the beginning of summer means a colorful parade of characters prancing down State Street.
For my hubby and me, Summer Solstice is marked by a black and white parade up our lane, when Pepe and all the LePews return to our backyard for the annual battle between our Jack Russell terriers and the supreme weapon, eau de skunk.
I’m on the phone when the first strike comes in. I detect the unmistakable scent of musk. When I see three terriers rubbing their faces on the grass, I know that instead of bedtime for my husband, and me it’s bath time for three terriers.
But I’m still trying to explain to the caller that I must hang up immediately due to a skunk emergency.
It’s a well-known fact that men’s noses aren’t as sharp as women’s and that explains why my husband is completely oblivious to the aromatic mine field we’re in. He’s calling the dogs in for the night.
I’m waving my arms to indicate the skunked terriers should STAY OUTSIDE until we’re ready to bathe them.
Finally, I’m off the phone and I yell, “Pepe’s back!”
My hubby screams, “Oh, $#&!” and we’re off and running.
Like the experienced dog-care professionals we are, my hubby and I know exactly what to do. My job is to get the shower going. My husband’s very long arms are perfect for carrying skunked terriers one by one to the tub.
Once all three dogs are enduring the indignity of perfumed shampoo, my husband says, “Remind me again why we have dogs.”
“Well, for one thing, we don’t need an alarm system. No burglar, or anyone else, can get within fifty feet of our abode without alerting the terrier early-warning system. Not even Girl Scouts selling cookies can get through.”
“True,” he says wistfully. He misses those cookies. “Also there’s the time we save cleaning. The dogs bring in so much dirt it’s pointless to try. And it’s a real conversation piece having potatoes growing in the living room.”
“It’s not that bad,” I say. But I admit it’s handy to be considered eccentric. You can get away with all kinds of crazy stuff when people know you’re insane enough to live with a pack of terriers.
“And then there’s the fortune we save not going on vacations,” he adds.
My hubby and I haven’t been on a trip together for years. Kind friends all the time offer to dog sit for us, but about the time we begin with instructions on how to deal with the aftermath of a skunk attack, the volunteers quickly remember they have a family reunion exactly the same week we were planning to be gone.
“And think of how we have reduced our carbon footprint by not going anywhere,” I say. “The dogs have helped us save the planet.”
I have the showerhead on pulse-massage now, and the three wet dogs have gone from nervous to nirvana. They look beatific, as if they are personally responsible for our reduced consumption of fossil fuels.
“Don’t forget population control,” my husband says.
Admittedly, keeping up with terriers has reminded us over the years just how challenging it would be to keep up with toddlers. Sure, we would’ve liked to have had kids, but where would we have found the time? Besides, with an audience of terriers always chaperoning us…well, I’m sure you get the picture. It’s little wonder our only “offspring” to date are the four-legged kind.
It’s time now to swaddle the three soggy canines in towels and dry them a bit before they run through the house like atomic-powered windup toys.
“The dogs really have helped improve our coping skills,” I say. “With terriers, it’s always something. We get so much practice staying cool dealing with them that challenging events in the real life are a piece of cake.”
The dogs hear the word “cake” and immediately translate that to “treats.” In a moment they are all lined up at the biscuit jar, pretending to be obedient dogs deserving of rewards.
And that reminds me of one last advantage to having so many dogs. Every meal we save tidbits to share with them. It’s a simple but effect weight-loss secret.
Finally, the dogs are dry and calm, and it’s time for bed. Thanks to our canine pals, the world is a better place, my hubby and I are kinder people, and our whole neighborhood wears the heady aroma of skunk.
Life is good.
First published in the Montecito Journal August 7, 2008