Wiley Coyote & The Acme Kit Company: Part 2

Wiley Coyote & The Acme Kit Company: Part 2

August 17, 2009

I shouldn't have to tell you how angry I was with that skunk at this point, but I will. All my compassion had drained and my peaceful animal loving soul was tweaked into revenge. That skunk was going to be evicted from the feed room one way or another. I was marching to the tune of a new drummer and it's name was "war."

An interesting side note here before I go on. The Greeks apparently don't hate anyone. While they have five words for love they only have one word they use to describe their dislike of someone or something. That word is miseo which translates into despise. The American/English language has dozens of words that fall into that category. That's ok. I was using all of them as I carefully laid out my next plan of attack. My final plan. The plan to put an end to the 'close encounters' with my enemy.

In my frenzied state of mind, I considered guns, knives, bow and arrows, and machetes. I even briefly considered burning down the feed building. However, after a shower and another dousing of "anti-icky-poo" I mellowed somewhat and decided to use the tool at hand, which was the snare I'd recently obtained in my "Beginners Trapping Kit". It seemed, safe, simple and effective.

By the time I was once again ready to tackle the dastardly antagonist skunk who in my mind had become as large and aggressive as a Grizzly Bear, it was getting dark. Now a person in their right mind would stop long enough to consider that skunks are more active at night. I was not in my right mind.

Armed for "bear" I grabbed a flashlight and the instructions for installing the snare and headed out the door. As I neared the feed room, I flicked on the flashlight and read the instructions: 1. Anchor the snub end of the snare to something secure. Simple enough. Looking around I decided the best place to anchor the snare would be the inside of the feed room door. It was still ajar from my earlier hasty exit, so it would be a simple task. The job called for a few tools, but I was confident I could handle it.

In my husband's workshop I found his cordless drill and some rather long and lethal looking screws. I suppose I should confess that I have absolutely no talent for construction in spite of the fact that my husband is an assistant manager of a well-known hardware chain. But seriously, how much talent is required to anchor a piece of chain to a wall with a screw.

Back at the feed room, I quietly knelt down and positioned the snub end of the snare chain near the bottom of the door. I then tucked the flashlight under one arm, picked up the screw with my left hand and the drill with my right and pulled the trigger of the drill gun. There was an interesting, although rather loud, kind of "Whrrrr" sound and the screw flew into the air causing the chain to clatter to the ground. I peered quietly into the feed room to see to what extend I had disturbed the skunk. There was silence and to my relief no scent.

My second attempt to anchor the snare produced identical results. I decided the problem must be faulty screws or maybe a faulty drill, it couldn't be my lack of coordination. Checking the drill first, I held the flashlight up to it and found it was on R for reverse instead of F for forward. Ahh, problem solved. I flipped the little button to the right position and tried again. This time the momentum of the drill caused the screw to wobble and the screw. chain, and drill slipped and hit the door with a thud and clatter. I couldn't have been making more noise if I tried.

On my third attempt the drill gave a pathetically sad "rhhhhh" and I realized the battery was low. In retrospect, I should have waited for my husband to come home and take over. The job would have been completed in short order. Instead, being the self-sufficient, determined, bull-headed woman that I am, I marched back to his work shop and hunted around until I found his back-up drill. While I was in there, one of our dogs wandered in. Not wanting to take the chance of him getting sprayed by the skunk, I told him to "stay" and returned to the feed room to complete my task.

I set the drill down, picked up the screw and chain and was about to bend down to pick up the flashlight when I heard a muffled rustling behind me. You know, the kind of sneaky sound a disobedient dog makes when he slyly follows you after being told to stay.

I whirled around, stomped my foot and yelled "Stay!" I now regret both the action and the command. It wasn't the dog.

As you may have already guessed it was the resident skunk returning to the feed room after an evening stroll. Actually he most likely had been baited back by the scent of skunk lure on the snare.

In the blink of an eye there was a repeat of the earlier encounter: "Stomp-Stomp-Zing-Pow!"


If you are keeping score it's: Skunk 3, Lucy 0. I need to find a language with more words for "despise."