Skunked

As I near my driveway, I am alarmed to see a truck with the word "SHERIFF" emblazened on the side. A moment later, I decode the words "Animal Control Officer," as well. Before my mind has time to run through the list of possible scenarios, G comes racing toward me (and my still-moving vehicle), clad in pj's and bare feet. As I get out of the car, he excitedly announces, "I go to dee baf-room! I go to dee baf-room!" (His best friend's mom is trying to potty train him. I am not on board yet, being eight months pregnant and busily trying to finish our last month of schooling.)
I grab him before he runs into the street to give his report to more passers-by, and we make our way to the backyard, where the "sheriff", neighbors and the rest of our family have gathered.
Soon, it becomes apparent that a skunk has made its way into our empty chicken coop (the hens haven't come in yet for the evening.) He is now trapped, having somehow survived a close-range shot from our neighbor's crossbow. The AC officer intermitently strategizes with Clint and visits with his friends, our crossbow-owning neighbors. (They run the local animal shelter and are apparently on friendly terms with Mr. AC). I thought AC officers came, trapped little critters, then took them away for you.
One hour later, and watching through the window with my little ones, I conclude it is not so simple a process. Finally, as we are finishing up with our nightly prayer and scripture reading, an overpowering stench wafts through through the house and we see Mr. AC carrying a body bag out to his truck.
I put the children to bed, showing them this picture before kissing them all good night. (WARNING: This isn't the bloodiest picture ever, but you may want to skip it just the same.)
(Actually, the one they saw wasn't this gruesome, but I'm sure it still led to some pretty sweet dreams.) Then, I head downstairs where my husband - who has now been outside with skunkie for over 2 hours - comes in. The scent is overpowering, so he obligingly leaves his clothes in the garage and bee-lines it for the shower. (This is reportedly the second streak of the evening; the first occurring just before I came home when G came outside and announced his feat with the potty the first time.)
He goes to the grocery store for me (this guy knows how to pamper a pregnant wife!), we watch a great documentary ("Paper Heart"), and then go to bed. I am occasionally awakened by the need to dry heave; pregnancy super-smell mixed with skunk spray all around and in our house apparently does that to me.
And I hope for a little less adventure tomorrow. :)