Skip to main content

Good News

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, he was checking some of the known spots and he saw the most delightful sight he has seen since the first snow of winter.

It was Horace.

He knew Horace because of his crooked stripe, droopy left eye, and what Buster and the kids swear is a grin. Horace came right up to Buster, rubbed his tail against his leg and ate a little snack right out of his hand.

It is not generally advised that children make a practice of feeding skunks or other wild animals, but this is Polecat Hollow and anything can happen.

The last I saw Buster, he was running to town to tell Uncle Hinky, Spike, Mahilda, his sister Sally, Elmo, and Igmund G. Goodfellow III (Iggy) the news.

Good news sure travels fast.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Mission Statements

The assignment in Sunday School last week was for each member to write a mission statement for his or her life? It has frankly been a struggle for some of the folks in Polecat Hollow. Uncle Hinky wondered if they meant up until that point or beyond. At 105 he wonders how many more changes might be in store for him. He figures that if he can hand out a little more advice here and there and if someone takes it, his days will not be in vain. He said that. He even wrote it down. But he didn't give much more thought to it. "It sounds good," he told Byron. "It's about what you'd expect an old goat to say." Inside, he figured no one would ask for advise and he'd be under no obligation to actually give it - certainly free of the responsibility if it didn't work out. Miss Prudence is not quite so old (but considerably older than anyone else she knows well) and is always looking forward with clarity and wonder. There are so many things she has not yet don

Falvius Flatulation

I can't remember exactly when Flavius moved to town, but I do remember that it was an awful shock at the time. Like so many immigrants to Polecat Hollow, he had lost his sense of smell through a series of misfortunes and had migrated to the hills to be among his "own kind." By, "his own kind," he would have described those with a high tolerance for odoriferous anomalies such as are frequent in our skunk affluent environment. But, he didn't really get it. He was as pretentious as his name with all the ironies that are normally associated with conceit. Flavius simply had the most uncanny ability to offend, belittle, and alienate with a tip of his nose skyward that the town had ever seen. He seemed to believe that he was better than everyone else and was intent upon presenting that image in every possible circumstance. What the townsfolk did not know from the beginning and what would bring out their eventual characteristic compassion was something about hi