Lynne said she’d been on the phone one day last summer (also with her door open), “I heard the cat munching his catfood, and out of the corner of my eye saw a black and white shape at the dish… then thought, up-oh, the cat’s upstairs… I turned around to look and, of course, you guessed it, it was a skunk, the absolute nightmare scenario of living in the country. I slowly moved toward it, telling it to leave, please. It just looked me in the eye and, with its paw, scraped the cat’s dish closer to itself! I decided to do nothing and wait. Do you know how slowly skunks eat? Finally, when the skunk was finished, it calmly walked out the door.”
— The Pocket Lint Chronicles, Barbara Carlson, page 148