They say every living thing has its own unique role to play in the ecosystem.
I find some creaturesā roles more difficult to justify than others.
Geese, for example, are like terrible houseguests. They stay for the pleasant warm months and flee to the south as soon as things get a little chilly. I say good riddance to geese, because all they do while up here is leave a mess with their aerial droppings and protect ponds and dumpsters like a ruthless street gang.
Ever since I was attacked by a goose while riding a bike (another story for another day), I tend to get a bit shaky when walking past those foul fowl. Can you blame me? Even so, I suppose geese are redeemed if only by their soft feathers and the down blankets they make.
I find it much harder to justify the existence of skunks. I recently moved to Hoffman Estates, which in case you didnāt know is unofficially known as āSkunk Town, U.S.A.ā (at least by me).
One of my roommates owns a small beagle/Chihuahua puppy named Kenzie. Never having owned a pet in my life, even I have a hard time denying how adorable this dog can be. Even after she pees in my bedroom. Or chews up my books. Or even after she gets me into sticky, smelly situations like she did a month ago.
My roommate was in Indiana for the weekend and asked me to watch Kenzie. I had friends over on a Friday night and wanted to show them the dog, so I let her out to hang out with us in the living room.
Somehow I had forgotten about the last two times Kenzie ran out of the house, even though the second time had us chasing her across two lanes of busy traffic on Route 72. So of course, when one of my friends stepped out the back door, Kenzie saw her chance at escape.
And the chase began.
It was around 11 p.m. and my neighborhood is well-lit but there are still dark patches. Thankfully, Kenzie likes to run just a few feet, stop, then run away again as we approach. She seems to think itās cute.
One of my friends and I had chased Kenzie across the neighborhood in stop-and-go fashion for about 10 minutes when she pulled out of sight.
I turned the corner to find a dreadful scene: Kenzie was in attack mode, leaping back and forth and sizing up her opponent: a skunk.
Allow me a moment to describe this beast. With its balloon-like shape, the vile creature had to be the well-fed king of Skunk Town. It was not the least bit afraid of Kenzie, who did her best bark routine to try and appear intimidating.
The skunk, my friend, and I all knew what was going to happen next. Kenzie did not. I wanted to swoop in and pick her up while. I had the chance, but I didnāt want to get caught in the crossfire. During my hesitation, the skunk reared up and taught Kenzie a lesson from natureās school of hard knocks.
Stunned by the smell, Kenzie finally stopped in place long enough for me to pick her up. I carried her back home as far away from my body as I could. Even so, the sweater I had on would never be the same and ended up a casualty of the night.
After multiple baths of tomato juice, commercial skunk remover, and a homemade blend of hydrogen peroxide, dish soap, and baking soda, the smell ā which I would describe as moldy pasta and burned plastic ā finally left Kenzieās fur, though the guest bathroom that served as a āquarantine roomā while we ran out for supplies that night still lingers with a noxious trace of the Skunk King.
It took time, but I was able to dig up a couple of good points about skunks from that night. First off, if it werenāt for that skunk, I wonder if we ever would have caught Kenzie. Iād much rather explain a smelly dog to its owner over a lost dog any day.
Second, I learned to be more vigilant about leaving the door open, especially at night. So, if nothing else, I suppose skunks can claim the title of natureās nauseating night watchmen.
