EVERYDAY ADVENTURES

A Skunk Tale

My parents raised me to believe you should never have a dog in the house. They’re messy. They shed. They chew. They scratch. They’re trouble all around. That’s why our pups always lived in a dog house.

That, however, didn’t stop me from wanting to have my favorite dog, Alby, live in my room. After all, a dog is supposed to be man’s best friend. You don’t put your best friend outside in a box.

On top of that, I had watched hours of cartoons like Scooby Doo that convinced me a dog should be a constant companion who never leaves your side.

On top of that, I had watched hours of cartoons like Scooby Doo that convinced me a dog should be a constant companion who never leaves your side.

No doubt about it. I understood the proper way to care for canines. They should be treated like a BFF who sticks with you day and night.

Unfortunately, I had to rethink that opinion the first time my dogs got sprayed by a skunk. And when I say sprayed, I mean blasted, fire-hosed, the full nuclear option. That skunk had given them both barrels and then some.

I’m sure they had it coming. My dogs loved to chase things in the woods, sometimes disgusting things. This time they finally got what they wanted, and unfortunately, we all had to suffer the consequences.

I’m sure they had it coming. My dogs loved to chase things in the woods, sometimes disgusting things. This time they finally got what they wanted, and unfortunately, we all had to suffer the consequences.

You could smell those poor pooches coming a mile away. One disgusting whiff convinced me my parents were right. Not only did I not want these dogs in the house. I didn’t even want them in the same zip code.

Don’t get me wrong. I still loved my dogs, but the smell made me want to stay as far away from them as possible.

But that wasn’t an option. After all, these were MY dogs. That meant I had to help clean them up.

No professional dog groomer was going to come save the day. If I wanted to make these animals bearable to live with—even outside—I’d have to get up close and personal.

No professional dog groomer was going to come save the day. If I wanted to make these animals bearable to live with—even outside—I’d have to get up close and personal.

We didn’t have an outdoor faucet. That meant the only way to deal with this problem was for my dad and I to take the dogs down to the creek, jump in with them and scrub them with tomato juice and shampoo. These are the kind of things you do when you live in the country.

And guess what happens when you wrestle a skunk-soiled dog in a muddy creek? You get pretty gross yourself.

Eventually we all climbed out of that water transformed. The dogs came out clean and smelling like a rose. But my dad and I? Not so much. In the process of scrubbing off the odor, we’d taken on some of it ourselves.

Sometimes when I think about that day, it reminds me of what God did for me. I may have never chased down a skunk, but I’ve chased after plenty of other things that left my life a mess.

Sometimes when I think about that day, it reminds me of what God did for me. I may have never chased down a skunk, but I’ve chased after plenty of other things that left my life a mess.

So how did God deal with it? By pushing me away? By exiling me to another zip code? That would have been the fair thing to do. No one could have blamed him.

But not God. Instead, He came close. Not because I’m his pet, but because he wanted me to be a son. He took my sin on Himself and paid the price to make me clean. Not because I deserved it but because I needed it.

See, even when we’re at our worst, God’s grace is at its best. When everyone else turns their back on us, God pursues us. Even if we feel as dirty as a skunk, there’s a God who’s not just willing but eager to jump in the water with us, clean us up and take us home.

See, even when we’re at our worst, God’s grace is at its best. When everyone else turns their back on us, God pursues us. Even if we feel as dirty as a skunk, there’s a God who’s not just willing but eager to jump in the water with us, clean us up and take us home.

Speaking of home, both of my parents now have dogs in their houses. They finally came to their senses, brought their pets inside and now treat them better than children. Eight-year-old me thinks it’s really funny.

But don’t worry. I finally got my wish too. My dog, Panda, sleeps in my room and sticks closer to me than Scooby Doo.

However, I can’t really call her man’s best friend. I know who deserves that title, the one who loved me, forgave me and brought me home. •