Yep, I had just finished morning rounds when Dave called. He takes his dogs out for a good run on the weekends, but today the girls engaged Mr. Skunk in a lively debate, which I believe they lost. Big time. Since Dave didn’t want to stuff the two stinky (and that’s being really polite) ladies back in his car, he called and asked if I would bring the truck. So I load up Enzo, dish detergent, baking soda and vinegar and go to collect the offenders.
After a few phone calls, I find the farm and we load them into the crates in the back of the pickup, and I head for the barn (What? you don’t honestly think I’d wash them in the house with a wash stall available, do you? And if it occurred to you that I might wash Dave’s skunked dogs, you don’t know me very well). So now my truck and clothes smell, too, even though I didn’t get near the girls. They seriously tangled with Mr. Skunk. Lots of laundry going.
One of my volunteers used to do the costumes for stage productions, and she said spray the clothes with vodka, and it removes all sorts of smells. Body odor. Skunk? We will find out. So if anyone shows up at the barn and finds a spray bottle full of vodka, I am not drinking it! Really! Not that I need to bring it to the barn anyway, since the girls are now living in the garage. I guess my house will smell like a bar for a bit. Or at least the car.
BA seems to be doing well. Another vet check tomorrow, and the second plan of action will be put in place. And as he is getting better, Reggie shows up for breakfast with two fat hind legs. Crike. I really do feel like I run hospice for horses some days. So he’s on bute and smz’s and will probably check in with BA’s vet.
And I should probably check in with my vet. Everything hurts. When it hurts too much to ride, there’s a problem. Except she will just say, “Take more ibuprofen.” Which is why I almost never go.
Keep y’all posted. Later.