I grew up out in the sticks on a very small farm, surrounded by several larger, “real” farms. As a result, we had a handful of farm animals, along with a few unusual pets.
When I was nine years old, I returned home from school to find out that we were about to be the proud owners of two baby skunks. One of our farming neighbors had accidentally run over the mother skunk with a tractor, only to discover a nest of seven, one-day-old babies. The little skunks were so tiny, you could hold both of them in the palm of your hand. We christened the boy skunk to be named Stinky and the girl skunk, Blossom. Their little eyes were still closed and they more closely resembled black and white mice. We fed them milk out of a kitten bottle and they slept in a small wire cage with a travel clock, which emulated the mother’s heart beat. Stinky was the runt of the group and only survived about three weeks, but Blossom, well, blossomed.
Most people know that if you are going to keep a skunk as a pet, it is a wise plan to have them descented. What most people DON’T know is that the skunk has to be six weeks old before they have the surgery (it takes that long for the scent gland to develop). The week or two leading up to the surgery, we were instructed to be VERY careful. No sudden movements or raising the skunk’s ire. A house pet never had it as good as Blossom had it in those days leading up to the procedure.
By the way, finding someone who will descent a skunk is no small task. The mere fact that our local vet had a “cat” entrance and a “dog” entrance was a big clue that they may not be willing to take on a critter that didn’t fit into either category (by the way, after only a brief pause, we did take Blossom to the cat side). We were referred to a vet in Manassas, VA who was willing to do the descenting procedure. They did the surgery outside, wearing green garbage bags, “just in case.”
We returned to the vet’s office to pick up the newly altered skunk, and stopped dead in our tracks when we walked in the already open front door and saw fans set up everywhere. My dad says, “I’m betting this has something to do with us.” The vet smiled and nodded. “Who got it,” my dad inquired. “My wife,” the vet replied. Ouch. Apparently, they had put Blossom in the dirty linen room, to keep her away from the other animals. They forgot to tell the vet’s wife and she threw open the door and hit the lights. We were told that she took it well enough, but I noticed we were not invited to become repeat customers.
Our neighbor’s, the Miller’s, had kept one of the skunks for themselves (Mr. Pew), which made them the obvious choice for “skunksitters” whenever we went out of town. On one such occasion, they had Mr. Pew and Blossom at the house and they were racing up and down the long front hallway. The Miller’s had hired an exterminator to take care of some yellowjackets that were residing under the house. The exterminator completed his task and came to the front door to ask Mrs. Miller if she had anything else that required his services. “As a matter of fact, I’ve had problems with these getting in the house,” she said, as she reached down and scooped up the two skunks. Watching the color drain out of an exterminator’s face is apparently a lot of fun. We have laughed about it for many years.
Another time, we arrived home to find the skunk wandering around in the garage. My dad was slightly puzzled as to how she got out of her cage, and proceeded to make his way toward the skunk. He got half-way to it before having the good mind to go check the skunk cage. Good thing, as that turned out NOT to be Blossom.
We enjoyed several good years with Blossom, before she passed away from a heart attack (common for domesticated skunks, as they will eat anything and everything). For better or for worse, having a pet skunk will make you the talk of the neighborhood.
