Petunia

My brother Thomas is older than me; he fits between Patrick and Phillip.  He plays the piano almost as good as Mom does, and he's an amazing artist.  He's kind of quiet, and doesn't like it when I bug him too much; but he makes me laugh and will always walk to the beach with me if I ask him to.  We are the only ones in the family with a May birthday - he teases me on my birthday to remind me of his birthday.  It always works!

Spring has slowly blossomed into early summer, and the poplar trees finally have shaken off their fuzzy tails and replaced them with light green leaves.  Dad has been busy rototilling the garden, waking up all of the blackflies in the process.  Mom has taken the blankets off the beds and they are out on the clothesline, snapping in the quick, warm wind.  It's hard for us to stay out of the blankets when they are on the line - we like to wrap ourselves up in them like caterpillars in a warm cocoon, smelling a bit of dusty bedroom and a bit of warm green spring.  If Mom catches us though, we know we're in trouble - so it's just a quick in and out kind of game.  You lose a point if a clothespeg pops off.

I had just gotten a popsicle from the freezer and I was sitting outside on the front step, enjoying it before it melted.  You know the kind where you make a big jug of kool-aid and then pour it into a plastic mould, put the little plastic handles in, and then freeze it to make a whole batch.  Some of the plastic handles are missing, so we use spoons or re-use wooden popsicle sticks for those.  It's NOT the same as having a cup of kool-aid, it lasts much longer and your lips can get even MORE pink or purple or blue, depending on the flavour, which I like.   I look out over the back yard and the garden, and I can see Tom walking towards the house.  He looks like he's holding something, but it's too small for me to see what it is.  It might be one of the bunnies - my brother Pat has some rabbits that he keeps out in a hutch in the back yard, but they're not usually very friendly. They scratch and don't like to be held very much, but it is fun to poke clover into their pen and watch them nibble all the way up the stem to the flower!

I leave my spoon on the step and run out to meet Tom, too curious to wait for him to reach me.

"What ya got, Tom?" I call before I reach him.  I can tell its something alive, he's holding it so carefully, and I think maybe it's a little black and white kitten!

"Aww, can I hold her?" I ask, stopping beside Tom, and reaching out to accept a transfer.

Tom is smiling at me, and I can tell that there's something else going on, I haven't quite caught on yet. He's not passing the kitten over, and as I look closer at the kitten...

"It's a baby skunk!" Tom finally explains, "We found it on the trail coming home from Rabbit Lake; the mother was killed and this little guy was left behind."

By this time, we've been joined by Paul, Phillip, John, Frances and Scott.  We're all wondering what it will eat, where it will sleep, and how it will do without it's mother.  It seems so small and helpless, and it doesn't even smell!  I run back to the house to tell my mom.  She will know what to do!

We find a little box from the basement and put an old towel in it.  We try to decide on a name - the twins next door, Lorne and Leslie, are calling her Petunia and my brothers are calling her Skunky.  I think I prefer Petunia, because that reminds me of the Bambi movie and the little skunk named Flower.  I still haven't had my turn to hold her, but that's okay - I don't want to do anything that will make her upset!  Eventually I get my chance with her.  It's so strange; she's kind of like a kitten, but not as... fluffy, or something.  She's not exactly smelly, but she does have that special skunky scent if you are close enough to smell her.

Although we have "adopted" Petunia, mom hasn't allowed her to stay in the house at night.  Tom has worked out a spot for her outside.  He puts Petunia in the box with her towel in the window-well just outside the front door; its safe and warm enough for her.  I go with him one morning when he goes to check on Petunia.

"She's still wild," he explains, "Watch what she does."

As Tom slowly opens the cover, Petunia is startled.  She starts to stamp her little back feet like she is having a tantrum!  I laugh because it seems like she's really mad that we woke her up!  Then suddenly, she swings around and her tail goes Straight UP!  Uhoh - my laughing stops suddenly as I back away from the window well, concerned about what's going to happen next, and now it's Tom's turn to laugh at me.

"Haha!  Don't worry, she's too little to spray yet, she's just practicing!  You should see your face!"

Practicing or not, I don't want to be in the line of fire when she finally figures out how it all works.

Petunia becomes part of the family for a while.  Tom takes her for walks down to the swamp behind the house.  Petunia stops along the way to dig up food for herself, and the boys catch frogs for her.  They catch them and then give them a "twack" so they stop jumping and Petunia can catch them herself for a little snack.  It's pretty neat.  We even take her on a car trip with us to visit our grandparents camp!  In the car on the way there, Tom had her on his lap and the guy pumping the gas was looking in the window at us with a really strange look on his face... we laughed and laughed at what he must have thought!


Even though we look after her, mom insists that we can't keep wild animals forever, and that the best place for Petunia is back out in the forest.  It happens much quicker for animals than for people, I guess, and it kind of makes me sad for Petunia.  I'm already 10 whole years old, and I can't imagine being on my own without my family.

Back at home one morning as I'm having my breakfast, I can hear Paul and Tom outside.  I can tell that something is wrong, but mom makes me stay at the table until I'm finished.  By the time I finally get outside in my pj's, I know that Petunia is missing.

"She must have climbed out," says Paul, who is thinking that is what he would have done if he were stuck in a window-well.

"Or else something came and got her for their dinner," says Tom.  "She was still pretty small."

We searched and searched for her, but we never did find her again.  I like to think that she made her way down to the swamp, snacking all the way, and eventually met up with another skunk family and found some friends.  I suppose we will never know what happened to her, but I think we all feel good about helping her, even if just a little, along her journey.

*****

Dedicated to my generous and caring brother Thomas, on his 57th birthday!
and
In memory of my Dad, who died 28 years ago, and who had a pretty high tolerance for strays of every kind.