Back To Work At The Chronicle.

It’s been hot here is CrowMac Creek. The temperature peaked at 96 humid degrees and the sky was unusually overcast. The previous high of 90 degrees occurred in 1995. I have to admit that I’ve been grumbling to anyone who will listen about the warming trend, and that I’m angry about what our politicians are doing about it, which is nothing. But in CrowMac Creek, there are many who still do not believe that humans have anything to do with this, and they grumble more loudly than I can, so as it is said, the 
I started my day, as usual, walking Cheyenne. When I got off the roads, I unleashed her, and she  bounded up the trail, down the trail, and then, busting through the brush, she found that old skunk who responded by giving her a good shot. She ran back wildly, snorting and pushing her snout through the sand and dust.
I let her know just how I felt, which was just the same as in the past. On went the leash, and we didn’t communicate the rest of the walk. There was no fetch, no stick, nothing, and as in the past, she was broken hearted. When we arrived back at the cabin, I tied her to an outside faucet, sprayed her down, rubbed in some detergent soap, and rinsed her. She was ashamed and she hung her head, dropped her and it moved just enough to indicate it was still attached. I worked on her, but that gooey brown skunk spray remained. I tried tomato juice, but no dice.  I brought out the Arm & Hammer baking soda, which helped, but not enough. She was therefor held in solitary confinement on the porch the remainder of the day.
After that fiasco, I was a mess. I smelled my hands and I smelled skunky. I repeated everything I had done with Cheyenne with the same effect, but I had an appointment with Howard at the CrowMac Creek Chronicle, and I needed to leave, so I gave up, hopped into the cab of my old Nissan truck and took off.
  I was nervous about seeing Howard again. I knew that our longtime friendship had helped in the past when I had been derelict in my responsibility, but it has been months since I had checked into the Chronicle and I was nervous.
As I walked through the door, I noticed that I could smell myself, and as I traveled up the aisle to Howard’s office, I noticed others could too.
Howard stood menacingly in the doorway to his office stepping back only to allow me in. He closed the door, directed me to the chair, walked back behind his desk and sat. He looked directly at me in a way I had not seen before and stated, “Cheyenne found that old skunk again!”