Skunk

We were returning from a round of errands the day we spotted a juvenile skunk sniffing in circles on the street to our home. Fortuitously, we had doughnuts to toss from the open truck window.  The little black skunk ate greedily, emboldening us to get out and look more closely. He nibbled feverishly at his doughnut; the sugary crystals clinging prettily to his whiskers. Allie, eleven at the time, inched alarmingly close to him, and called his name "Sugar".

And that is how these things happen.

When Sugar immediately threw up his doughnut, Allie tore off another piece. When he threw that one up, we scratched our heads and wondered if Sugar the skunk was any good.  Allie reasoned that something must be so wrong with Sugar that his mother had had to abandon him.  She also reasoned that this made him the perfect pet.

Next thing I knew, Allie had made Sugar a rag-lined shoebox bed, and was luring him into the backyard.  She then searched the fridge for skunk vittles because, obviously, dessert wasn't going to stay down.  An internet search informed that skunks can eat bugs and melons. Melons we had, and the crickets could easily be stolen from Allie's new lizard, who had suddenly become "old and ghastly".

Close to sundown, Sugar went to sleep in his dirty little skunk bed, and I thought he might be dying -  based just on his grossness. He was unkempt, stinky, flea-ridden, and vomity. To a city person, it seemed a given that no one could survive these conditions long. And he was partially blind for sure, as Allie discovered that evening when searching for him with the flashlight. The tapetum in only one eye lit up in the flashlight beam, and Allie felt sorrier than ever for her furry, circling baby.

Sugar thrived, however, setting up a day-time home under our neighbor's willow tree, and sleeping right beside the pond where the willows drink. And even though he would first lift his tail in warning, he would lower it the instant he recognized Allie's familiar scent on the wind. He would waddle toward her as fast as he could.

The morning after adopting Sugar, Allie found him near the neighbor's front drain, gnawing a baby snake. It was probably dead when he found it, but she admired his opportunism.

For two weeks, Sugar hunted by night and slept in Allie's lap by day - heedlessly peeing all over her. He feasted on  melons and foraged near her lap, never once biting or spraying her. But one morning, Allie didn't find Sugar making his rounds; nor did she find him in the afternoon or evening. It wasn't until the next morning that Sugar managed to drag himself nearly home to the neighbor's pond before collapsing.

Allie ran into the house wailing, "Sugar is dead!"

While I was looking for a Walmart burial sack, I saw Allie striding back across the yard with a shovel........and a flower. She had thought of everything. Since we were unsure about digging graves,  Allie placed Sugar in his nasty, little bed, and toted him to the creek in the woods where her brothers were breaking up camp from the night before.

Luke took one look at Allie's face, and came wordlessly to take up her burden. He and Ben began immediately digging a grave while Allie sat watching silently.

And that is how these things happen.

Allie cried, but then we moved on, refusing to dwell on inevitabilities. We did discuss Sugar frequently for the next year, but mainly to puzzle over why he died so prematurely when he seemed healthy and well-fed on delicacies of melon.

Some two years later, Allie watched a program that warned against feeding pet skunks too much fruit because they are not meant to live on it.

Oops.