Stinker

The mister and I dragged ourselves out of bed to walk the dogs at 5:00 a.m. Despite the darkness, the shape of a skunk was easily defined in the grass behind the middle school. We opted to avoid a closer inspection after making out the telltale shape. Our dogs? Not so much getting the idea that there are some things best left without investigation. The mister and I veered away from the skunk after seeing the tail stand up in readiness. It trundled off into the first row of available hedges as we reached the concrete sidewalk. Whew.
Buster was sniffing the air in hopes of determining what he had just been forced to miss when his giant doggy head ever so slightly nudged my hand. The hand with five butter-fingers holding on to my phone non-too-tightly. The phone made a suicidal leap to the pavement landing flat and the screen giving the telltale crack that announces trouble. Oh, but no.

By 6:00 a.m. I was wishing for a do-over on this day, but also glad to not be bathing in tomato juice in an effort to kill the skunk stench. That would have added some serious insult to the phone's near-terminal injury.