Today turned into a shit show real fast.
It started with the weirdest event—something that has never happened before. I woke up from a deep sleep to the sound of a woman whispering, “Hello.” It would be easy to say I was dreaming or that sleep was playing some sort of trick on me. At least that’s what my rational brain would say.
But it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like there was a presence in the room. Looking back, the word was said in a friendly tone. There was no threatening “hello” or creepy whispering of my name. Just a simple, polite greeting. Still, I was left with chills.
I immediately checked to make sure my husband was still breathing beside me (because apparently that was the first logical concern) and then got up to do a walkthrough of the house. I needed to make sure nothing had been disturbed and, more importantly, that there wasn’t some random woman wandering around my house saying hello in the middle of the night.
While completing said walkthrough, what did I discover, you might ask?
Well, first I let the dogs out of their crates. We’ve been crating them at night since they were sprayed by skunks two days ago, and I wanted backup. Or, at the very least, an early warning system that would allow me to run if there was a creepy person in my house.
Unfortunately, both dogs immediately started acting bizarre. Mako, our Lab/hound mix, began pacing in the hallway between my son’s bedroom and the bathroom with an odd posture that basically screamed, “Something is wrong, but I’m not going to be the one to deal with it.” Wesson, our German shorthaired pointer, went into the bathroom—which is particularly strange because he is normally terrified of that room due to his deep and understandable hatred of bath time. He grunted, immediately ran back out, and refused to elaborate.
At this point, I knew something wasn’t right.
So I pulled up my big girl panties and started walking down the hallway to investigate. No weird sounds but Wesson kept stepping in front of me and grunting – as if trying to warn me of something. I entered the bathroom and didn’t see anything at first. Then I took a couple of steps in and noticed an odd paw print on the floor.
Then I a saw it… A SKUNK.
A flipping skunk was hiding behind the toilet. I backtracked out of that bathroom faster than I have moved in a very long time and shut the door.
Fast-forward several hours and numerous phone calls. Our local Fish and Wildlife Department does not help with skunk removal. Their dispatch was completely unhelpful and, quite frankly, a little rude. The woman kept repeating that I needed to call a professional trapper from their list. I had the list pulled up. There was not a single option anywhere near where I live. I tried politely pointing this out. This got me nowhere. Instead, I continued to hear some variation of, “Call someone on the list,” until I eventually gave up.
I tried several other numbers for our local Fish and Wildlife Department, which was moderately more successful. I was eventually able to speak to an officer who confirmed that there are no local professional trappers and that hiring one was not really an option for our area. Their office also does not assist with skunks trapped inside homes. His first suggestion?
Live trap it. Then cover the trap with a blanket and carry the trapped skunk outside. The problem with this plan? He has never managed to do it without getting sprayed. He then proceeded to explain everything I should do after I inevitably got sprayed. Helpful? Technically. Inspiring? Not so much. More terrifying, really.
His second suggestion was to build a tunnel system from the bathroom to the back door. Sounds easy enough, right? Except this is not a small area.
And, I should probably mention, shortly after I discovered the skunk, my husband had to respond to an emergency dive situation that lasted all day. His only contribution to the skunk situation was grabbing me a live trap from the shop and helping me sneak it into the bathroom before he left.
So what have I done all day? Stress-cleaned. Paced. Stress-cleaned some more. And then attempted to MacGyver a tunnel system through my house.
The live trap is still sitting in the bathroom with a tantalizing can of open tuna inside.
The skunk? Still behind the toilet.
The tunnel has been engineered and built. Will it work? Who knows? I sure hope so because I really, really do not like the idea of this skunk getting out and spraying the entire house.
I will say, one blessing so far is that it hasn’t sprayed. Does the house still stink? Of course. But if that thing sprays, it is going to be horrific. And homeowners insurance does not cover skunk damage. I checked.
So below, you can see my terrible engineering skills in action. I’ll keep you posted on whether this plan is a brilliant success or an absolute disaster. I’m really hoping you won’t be hearing about the latter.
And then there’s the whisper. The creepy “hello” that felt real. I can rationalize it away. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. Sleep, dreams, my brain misfiring at 4 a.m.—who knows? But I can’t help feeling like it was somehow telling me to get out of bed because there was trouble in the house. Particularly helpful once a skunk was already inside? No, not really. But I suppose it was a nice thought. And honestly, I wouldn’t mind having a benevolent spirit hanging around. I’ve always quite liked the idea that spirits exist.
