Pepe Le Pew Lives Under My Porch

[mousme]

So I was walking home from work last night and turned to walk up my stairs, when I caught sight of movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head to get a better look, and saw only a flash of black and white fur and the swish of a tail before whatever it was disappeared under the front porch. A cat, was my first thought. After all, we have plenty of strays to go around. The gait wasn't quite right, though: a bit like a roly-poly sailor's gait more than the graceful-but-guilty-looking slink of the average alley cat.

My curiosity piqued, I investigated, suspicions already aroused as to what it might be. Sure enough, blinking calmly at me from its vantage point under the porch, was a skunk. It regarded me with mild interest, and I didn't try to get too close (work clothes + skunk = baaaaad). It didn't stamp its feet or raise its tail, which I know are the classic signs of "Come one step closer and I'll nail you!" from a skunk (I did a project on them back in elementary school), but I didn't especially want to try my luck with it.

So I left Pepe to his (her?) business, and went upstairs. I like seeing city wildlife: it reminds me that we're not nearly as far removed from nature as we think, even in the midst of the concrete jungle.

Comments

[sultrysong.livejournal.com]

When I was a kid, my best friend's dad used to tell about a pet skunk he had when he was young and single and living in a trailer in Manitoba. It had its stinker taken out and he'd had it since it was a baby. It acted rather like a cross between a cat and dog, though a bit wilder of course. No one in the area liked that he had it and eventually a local cop shot it. Sad story.