Sometimes I am amazed that incidents that occurred when a child, can jump to the top of one’s memory. Recently we were together with some family members when the game was suggested which asks us to tell a story as wanted. All this to be done without the “ums”, “ahs” etc, and the typical pauses when speaking without notes.
When it was my turn to speak for at least a minute, I was given the topic, “Breeding Skunks.” What would I say, when like a thunderbolt, an incident from my childhood came to mind. My brother and I DID once attempt to breed a skunk, but with a cat!
Let me set the stage. We lived in Chilliwack, BC and were visiting my sister and her husband who lived next to a large creek. I will have been about 8 and my brother 10—two adventurous boys! We knew that the high grass and shrubs were home to at least one family of skunks. We loved to venture into the grass, often hoping a skunk might show up. On this particular evening we caught our family cat as a possible mate for the skunk.
Now, all we needed was to catch a skunk! How would we do that? We found some old sacks, discarded quilts, and though we could possibly use these to capture a skunk. I went into the high grass, yelling and flapping my arms, and sure enough a family of skunks came trudging out of the grass. My brother was ready with the big, old quilt in front. He cautiously moved toward the skunk, hoping to grab the skunk and put it (we assumed the skunk was a female) into one of the sacks. Then we would take the skunk and have her join with our cat, sitting in a large cat cage.
However, that is not what happened. As my brother was rushing forward, the skunk, as skunks do, turned around and shot his defensive weapon directly toward my brother. Thankfully, he still was holding the quilt, but some of the spray did reach his hands. What a stink!
We gave up on our breeding attempt and sheepishly got on our bicycles and rushed home. We knew we could not keep this from our parents. The smell was too awful. My brother took several baths, got fresh clothes and finally felt comfortable. And I, I could not help but snicker at the whole fiasco! Of course my brother was mad at me for making him “hold the bag” so to speak. Our mother was very perturbed—what were we thinking? Dad was gone to some meeting and knew nothing of this situation.
We had no answers. Now, some 75 years later, I still do not have an answer.
Mother, reluctantly, threw out the sweatshirt. Then she admonished us rather severely. She kept repeating, “What were you thinking?” “What did you expect the cat to do?”
ElderWisdom 