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The Stinky Visitor

Some days at work are more interesting than others. One Friday beat them all. It started out as any other Friday. Our much appreciated printer was spitting out the bulletins, folded and stapled, and ready to stuff with bulletin inserts. Everything was going well. No issues. I was having a good day.

In came a co-worker. His day wasn’t going quite so smoothly. An out-of-character fumble at the front door resulted in two cups of premium Tim Horton’s coffee landing unceremoniously on the outside stoop, the inside rug between the double doors, and the glass door itself. Not a good start to the day.

He shows up at my office, still generously offering me the last coveted cup of coffee, along with an not-so-welcome question: “Did you smell skunk?”

Hooded Skunk (Mephitis macroura)

Image via Wikipedia (Public Domain)

I looked at him like he was trying to trick me. He does that from time to time. Tries to trip me up, to bring out my gullibility.

“No,” I ventured.

“You didn’t smell it when you walked in?”

“No,” I said again. “You mean in the building?”

“As soon as I walked in, I could smell it,” he told me.

“No, I really didn’t, but my sense of smell doesn’t work so well. If you smell it, you probably should go check it out.”

Of course, as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I thought of another way they could be interpreted: “Go wander the building and see if you run into an enraged skunk that’s waiting to spray you!” Hmm….

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to take it that way. He set off to search out the source of the smell.

A short time later, he showed back up at my office after gingerly walking around the building looking for the skunk. His wording, not mine. Though gingerly sounded like a good way to do it.

“I think it’s in the annex,” he told me.

Curious, since my semi-functioning sense of smell was still picking up no scent whatsoever, I walked downstairs with him. As we neared the primary room, a faint smell of skunk reached my nostrils. One step inside and my nose was suddenly functioning at full capacity. At least my full capacity.

My co-worker headed for the door to the stairwell that led to the annex. Brave man. I supported him fully—from a great distance, ready to sprint back out of the room if the skunk were actually behind that door. Right, not so brave of a secretary!

He reached for the door handle, cautiously opening it. — The skunk wasn’t in the stairwell.

The fumes that escaped from the stairwell as the door opened were potent. I backed up, while my brave co-worker walked through the putrid smell to inspect the annex itself. — The skunk was not in the annex.

All evidence (a.k.a. smells) supported a theory that the skunk had sprayed under the annex close the stairwell.

Besides the skunk there were three participants that day: A wimpy secretary, that being me. A brave co-worker, the one who investigated the situation. And the critter control man.

Who deserved the most credit? In my estimation that would go to the critter control man. That’s the guy we paid to place a trap under the building where the skunk was presumed to be. That’s the guy we paid to return and collect the trapped skunk the following day.

You couldn’t have paid me enough. I think that guy deserved a medal. Wouldn’t you agree?

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I am a pastor’s wife, former missionary, mother of four great sons (and a wonderful daughter-in-law!), and author of three books: Betrayed, Identity Revealed, and A Murder Unseen. (Available at: Amazon.com.) I have a passion for God, my family, and writing! Follow me on Twitter and Facebook.

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