Unluckily, during her brief adventure, she came across a skunk that must've appeared to want a friend. It did not want a friend. I came home to a smell so foul that words don't do it justice. The best description I can come up with is that it smelled like burnt poison.
I can safely say that now (after 23 hours, 4 doggy baths, 3 vacuumings, and too many curse words to count), we can literally breathe easier. But it's been a tough go to get to this point.
On a related note, I know that the skunk spray is a defense mechanism, but I don't understand how it works. That smell (like that of a chemical plant fire) was so horrible that it evoked nothing but anger from me. Blinding...white hot...anger. So how is that a good means of defense? If I were the dog, the interaction probably would have gone similar to this:
Kevin Dog: Hey! Look at that squirrel-cat! He looks neat! I like his white stripe!
Skunk: Oh crap. I hope he doesn't see me.
Kevin Dog: Hi! Do you wanna be my friend! I really like your stri......
Skunk: Take this!
PFFFFFFT! (thats the sound of ass juice being sprayed)
Kevin Dog: What the!?!? Did you just spray me with something that smells like a dirty hillbilly's meth lab? Oh God! F%^*, you! F@#!, you....you little S#@$ F@$# &^*((&^$%&*&%%#^&*^()(%%$##@%^$%^^%#@$%)(*!!!!!!!! I just wanted to be your friend, but now I am going to have to murder you in your dumb face!
And I didn't really like your stripe!
Why would someone spray me with ass juice?
Here's two things I've learned during this ordeal:
1. Using tomato juice to kill the skunk smell is a myth. I wish I had discovered this before...
2. If you're not going to keep tomato juice in your home, then you should try to strain the chunks out of salsa before you pour it all over your dog in the shower.