“Well, Tracker, I’m off.  I will see you all in a week.  Wish me luck and take care of the dogs.”

“But Sugar Plum, what I am going to do for a week without you?  I’ll probably starve to death,” Tracker whined.

“Tracker, you exaggerate!  You’ll be fine.  I stocked the freezer with all your favorites, elk stew, venison chili, spaghetti, and enchiladas.  All you have to remember to do is feed yourself and the dogs.”

“Call me!”

“I will.  Love you.  Bye.”

Sugar Plum was going to Washington, D.C. for a week to lobby for school funding.  Everyone knows she’s the smart one in the family.  As Sugar Plum drove up the driveway, Tracker, Thumper, Gabby and Remington all began pouting. 

“We’re on our own kids.  You better stay out of trouble.  I don’t want Sugar Plum to get mad at me.”

The first two days were pretty uneventful, but then Tracker got busy with customers at his wildlife museum so he wasn’t paying attention to the dogs.  He left the back door open so they could get in and out, especially Remington, the older gentleman of the trio.

Tracker came in the front door.  His last customer had left and he was starving and crabby. 

“Which one of you got into a fight with a skunk?” he shouted.  “This whole house stinks.”

Thumper and Gabby bayed in reply.  Remington did his best to imitate them.

“OK!  All right!  Enough!  I have a headache.  All of you, outside!  NOW!  I won’t be able to eat with that aroma!”

The dogs wouldn’t leave and just kept barking.  As Tracker turned the corner into the kitchen, he realized why.

“Holy Hannah!”  There were five skunks cornered in the mud room, just spraying away at the dogs.  The dogs wouldn’t back off.  It was their job to protect the house from intruders.  These skunks were the enemy.

“OK!  Get!  Go!  Out of here.”  Tracker was yelling and trying to make all of the four-legged creatures leave the house.  Unfortunately, no one was listening.   The racket was probably heard in town seven miles away. 

“What am I going to do?  It will take me days to get this smell out of everything.  Sugar Plum will be furious!  How will I explain it?”  Tracker asked himself.

Just as he was about to shut the door to the kitchen, one of the skunks bolted, ran past him, and gave him a good shot of perfume.  “This is war!”

Tracker ran to the bedroom and grabbed his shotgun and a box of shells.   “Ready or not, here I come.”

Thinking he would scare them all and make them go outside, he loaded the gun and went back to the mud room, but no one was there.  “Good, they finally left,” he said to himself.

It seems he spoke too soon.  The noise was now coming from the TV room. 

“Holy Hannah!  Now I’ll have to have the carpet shampooed before Sugar Plum gets home.

“Thumper!  Gabby!  Remington!  Get over here!”

Remington lumbered up the stairs, with his head down.  He knew this was trouble and he didn’t really want any part of it.  He slunk outside. 

Tracker had reached his limit.  He has no tolerance for monkey business when he is hungry.  He started firing his shot gun.  The dogs ran, the skunks ran, the skunks sprayed.  It was bedlam.  Tracker just kept firing.  He was possessed.  When he realized that the skunks were finally gone, he stood back to take stock of  the situation.

“Holiest of Holy Hannahs!  I am going to be in so much trouble.  Look what I have done to the house.”  There were holes everywhere, in the walls, windows, ceiling, and furniture.  “I’ll never get this back together by the time Sugar Plum gets home.  I don’t know what I’ll even say when she calls tonight.  Maybe I’ll just tell her the dogs got sprayed; that’s bad enough.”

Several hours later, Tracker picks up the ringing phone.

“Tracker, what are the flowers for?  They’re beautiful, but you never send flowers.  Thank you.  They really brighten up the room.”

“Sugar Plum, we just miss you is all.  I had a bad day and wished you were here to help.”

“What happened?”

“All three dogs got sprayed by skunks.  I took them to the vet to get them shampooed.  He had to cut Remington’s hair because it was so bad.”

“Oh, Tracker, that’s awful.  How traumatic!”

“You don’t even know.  We can’t wait for you to come home.  Have a safe trip.”

When Sugar Plum drove in two days later, everyone was waiting for her outside. 

“What a nice welcoming committee.  I guess you really did miss me.” 

As Sugar Plum got out of the car, all of them converged on her.  Tracker hugged her for dear life; the hounds were jumping up trying to get her attention, and Remington was leaning into her leg.

“OK, OK.  Yes, I’m home and I missed you, too.  Can I go in the house, please?  It has been a long day already.”

“Well, before we do that.  I have kind of a surprise for you.  You know how you have always wanted air conditioning. . .”

“You had air conditioning installed while I was gone?  Wow, I should go away more often!”

“Well, not exactly.  It’s flow-through ventilation and it is really cost efficient.”

“What is it, solar?  Where did you put the panels?”

“Well, not exactly.”

Sugar Plum is really suspicious.  “OK, Tracker, just what did you do?”

“Sugar Plum, you will have to see for yourself.”  To stall, he lit his pipe and started puffing away.  “I got a bit carried away.”

When Sugar Plum saw the wreck that had been created she screamed and immediately started crying.  “Tracker, how could you?  What went on here?  I will never leave you home alone again!”

“Now, Sugar Plum, let me explain.  It wasn’t really my fault. Right, guys?”   Thumper, Gabby and Remington took the fifth. 

“Not your fault!  Then who pulled the trigger?”

Aly Matthews Bruner

THE END