Schooled at P.U.

I’ve been meaning to start this blog for a while now, but couldn’t decide what my first post should be about. I just noticed an ad on TV for a show, and it reminded me of a story. So, what the heck. Hopefully this first one won’t stink TOO much…

A few years ago, I worked at a job with a full-on cat lady. Jodi loved cats, and had four of them. The only reason she didn’t have more was that the four she had wouldn’t permit it. These cats were like furry Teamsters, and presented a united front that would’ve made Lech Walesa proud.


But even four militant, sassy cats know when they’re outgunned, and it’s a darn good thing for them. And for Jodi.

Because one night as Jodi lay in bed, she heard some truly frantic crunching (or really manic munching — I can’t remember which) coming from the kitchen down the hall, where the rather large kitty kibble bowl was located.

“Wow. Somebody’s really hungry,” thinks Jodi, wondering which one of her feline companions is chowing down so heartily. Jodi looks around her bedroom, and counts…one…two…three…four…FOUR? “All felines present and accounted for, Mo’m” said four pairs of glittering eyes.

Which, as you might imagine, caused Jodi to wonder once again, “WHO’S CRUNCHING?” (She was even more curious as she wondered it this second time.)

So, on cautious bare feet, Jodi crept down the hall. With a baseball bat.

Jodi didn’t know what she was expecting to find when she reached the kitchen, but the sight that greeted her as she entered was most definitely NOT IT. Because around that rather large kitty kibble bowl I mentioned earlier, arranged neatly like the four points of a compass, were four baby skunks. And considering their tiny size, they had some rather ballsy solidarity going, too.

Now, you and I and Jodi all know at this point that the CATS had already assessed the situation and surrendered this turf, falling back in an orderly and dignified retreat to the bedroom. “Screw it. It’s only dry.” That bowl of kitty kibble had become the spoils of the briefest war in history.

Jodi stood there for a moment, herself assessing the situation. And for a fleeting moment, she hated cats. Those smug things lying safely around her bedroom hadn’t said a word. She knew they were all back there, snickering at her. Cat bastards.

Finally, resigned to what she assumed would be a smelly fate, Jodi grabbed the kitchen broom and started a new sport: Skunk Wrangling. (Juvenile Division.) Careful as a diamond cutter being operated on by a brain surgeon, Jodi slowly urged the tiny racing-striped waddlers toward the kitty door.

To her great surprise and relief, they went. Single file, one by one.

And that is the story of my friend Jodi’s surprise scholarship….to P.U.