Adventures in Polecat Hollow

Uncle Hinky was delighted to hear the news Buster brought about Horace. In skunk years, Horace was Hinky's contemporary. In people years, that number is quite few. Uncle Hinky, (aka Thaddeus T. Hinklebeiner Jr.) is the living legacy of the later years of his old daddy's life. Longevity and virility run in the Hinklebeiner family. The Colonel, Hinky Senior - otherwise known as "The Colonel," had been married two times before he came to Polecat Hollow in 1879. He was well into adulthood at as married three that point and a widower for many years. In fact, he did not marry again until 1900 and began to sire children every 18 months until a son came along - Uncle Hinky. Ask him how many brothers and sisters he has had and he won't be able to tell you for sure, but he knows it is over 20 and he is the last of them In fact, there had been a junior for each wife, but all died before he was born. This morning, he is savoring a cup of coffee at Mabel's Tea Cup, his reg

Some of the skunks in and around Polecat Hollow have been hybernating for the winter. The heartier souls have carried on their work and the domesticated ones have simply slept indoors. There is a slightly diminished aroma during the darkest, coldest days of winter. If it were not for the musk factory and the constant byproducts of production from the fall extractions, folks would find the absence of skunk scent hard to bear. After all, once you have grown accustomed to something, change is very difficult. So everyone, every year waits with anticipation for the Spring thaw and plans the first serendipidous celebration of the season upon the earliest siting of the grand awakening. The Junior Goobies have set up observation outposts outside of caves and other known hiding places of their fury friends. They have also placed little snacks outside the entrances as a way of welcoming them to the new day. Buster was so excited this morning that he could not contain himself. On his morning walk

Uncle Hinky meandered onto Main Street. There is nothing wrong with meandering when your 100th birthday was "some time back." It was not meaningless meandering. Uncle Hinky knows nothing of meaninglessness. Every step he takes is purposeful. At his age, you really have to watch your step. He likes to say that every age has its version of step-watching necessity. When he was young, he felt the need to watch his step around ladies. When he was older, he felt the same need. Now he doesn't feel all that intimidated in that particular dimension of his life, but he is very careful about uneven sidewalks and potholes. It's not that he isn't spry and he certainly isn't blind, but some things stand out as more immediate in their concerns. Immediate concerns have always been a topic of interest for Uncle Hinky. Years ago, while on his ay to an important appointment he came across a mad skunk. Now skunks are friendly sites to Polecat Hollow dwellers, but mad skunks are a

First you turn west at I1800. That's "I" for imagination. Then you make a left here and a right there and a few other turns into the obscurity of ambiguity until you begin a long elevation to the peak of the mountain where you'll find a broken down old sign that says, "Double Back." You can take that as an instruction, and warning, or an indication that you are about to enter Doubleback County and begin your descent into Polecat Hollow. Whatever you decide, be advised: There is no turning back from this point on. Once you have been there, you'll keep coming back. Your perspective will change. You'll be quirkier and quicker and it will be a tad more difficult to distinguish between reality and fantasy. Most of all, it will effect your senses. What once repulsed, will entice. What once irked will invite your interest. What once seemed absurd will seem quite normal. You've been warned. Enter at your own risk. In short, you will soon agree with the l