No Tomato Juice!

I spied something silver sitting three feet from the hen house as we pulled out of the driveway.  "What is that thing beside the hen house?" I inquired of Doug.

"Well since it seems we (meaning him) are not allowed to shoot anything around here (meaning I won't let him.)  I bought a live trap and we are going to trap that varmint."

I'm not sure what this we thing is.  But something is living under the hen house.  Doug is convinced it will ruin the foundation and it will come crashing to the ground.  Never mind it's probably over seventy years old.  We don't know what is under there.  I saw a skunk, Stripes, a couple of times.   Haven't seen or smelled him lately.  It was late fall and cold, so I was pretty sure Frederica, the groundhog, was hibernating.  The holes were too big for Speedy.  We had seen an opossum a time or two.  It was probably him.  My dad traps opossums all the time.  It would be no problem.  And yes I do name all the wild life!

We pulled back into the driveway about nine o'clock.  Our tummies were full of turkey and potatoes and desserts.   I strolled into the house thinking of a warm bath and pajamas.  That's when Doug blew in the door and loudly announced, "I got it.  You have to come help me."

Great.  "Can't the opossum wait until morning?" I yawned.

Doug puffed up like a peacock.  "I caught a skunk!"

"Stripes!  You caught Stripes?  I don't have any tomato juice!"

"Why do you need tomato juice? Didn't you have enough to eat?"

"No Ding-dong!  This is for when you get sprayed letting him go."

Still puffed up he announced he had a plan.  And I  had to help.  Great.

Off went my nice dinner clothes and on went the long underwear, the sweatshirt, a old holey jacket, just in case I needed to throw it away.  I trudged outside ten minutes later.

Our first mission was to hook up the trailer to the truck and dump off the half ton of old tires on it.  We didn't make it to the dump fast enough, I deducted.  After every muscle in my body was screaming, we positioned the trailer by the trap.

My weapon was the Q-beam.  I was to shine the light in the skunk's eyes.  Doug informed me they wouldn't spray what they couldn't see.   And they can only spray fifteen feet.  So sixteen feet away I blinded poor Stripes.  Doug cautiously approached from the rear.  (I was mentally calculating how  long he would have to stand outside in the cold while I drove into town for tomato juice.)  Slowly he slid the cage into a box and lifted it into the trailer.  Wow!  He didn't get sprayed!  Now how do you plan on getting it out?  And Where is Stripes going to go live?

Once again, he had a plan.  We drove one mile across the river and up the hill.  Doug went back to the box while I stood sixteen feet away.  I was farther from town and tomato juice now, but he could walk home.  Carefully he lifted the box and cage.  Slowly he walked over to the ditch.  Quick as lightening he threw the whole mess in the ditch and darted my direction.  The cage popped open and out streaked Stripes. 

"He's out!  He's out!" I yelled.  Stripes ran zigzag like a drunk down the hill.  "Look at that!  He's headed home!"

Doug mumbled some choice words.  Then Stripes made a bee line for the woods on the side of the road. 

"It's not even 10:30.  We dumped tires, moved the cage, drove to sand hill, and relocated the skunk.  Good job if I say so myself."  He was still puffed.

The next morning Doug filled in the holes under the hen house and started packing.  He had a airplane to catch the next day.  As night came, Doug took his stroll around the property,  saying good-bye to the lawn mower and such.  He came back in carrying the trap.

"What's with that?"  I asked.  Big mistake.

"There are holes dug under the hen house again.  This is for you to use while I'm gone."

All I have to say is "Dreaming is Free."