It all started out normally enough; I got up, ate a light breakfast, and brushed my teeth. Donning my brown skirt and red plaid shoes, I left for a morning dentist appointment. Due to my brilliant planning, I had a knitting project to take up in the waiting room. When I bored of that, I scribbled down a recipe I found in one of the magazines. I read the humour column in a hunting magazine. One lady was painting her nails. Thanks to my conscientious care, my teeth were all well. I left in good spirits, my mini floss and toothpaste in tow.
I spent the afternoon practicing Beethoven, picking strawberries, and doing dishes. By evening, I was putting the finishing touches on my project.
The sky was darkening outside, and I realized that I should feed the cats. Carrying a dish of food, I made my way toward the barn. Before reaching it. I noticed a small creature near the plum trees. I couldn’t see him clearly because of the dim light, but I presumed him to be a cat. I proceeded to whistle softly to him, in the same way I whistle to my cats. At this point, he began to walk. Seeing him closer, I realized that he was shorter than a cat. He walked differently, rather lumping along instead of delicately stepping. He had seemed dark from a distance, but now I could see a white stripe running the length of his little body. My next thought was, I do believe I just whistled at a skunk.
I made my way back inside without fear, because the little fellow seemed friendly enough. Once inside, I located my brother Phillip, and told him that there was a creature outside that looked suspiciously like a skunk. He grabbed his oversized flashlight, and we walked out together. He walked across the yard while I waited near the house. He called softly, “Famous last words: I didn’t think it could spray that far.” I smiled. He came back with the verdict that it was, indeed, a skunk. I skirted around the animal to feed the cats, and when I returned, I could still see him lurking by the clothesline.
And then I watched “Pa and Ma Kettle” while I knitted. The end.