Brendan Quealy: A stink that stings the senses

May 8—Midnight is just about to strike, and I have one question rolling around in my head.

Why the hell do skunks even exist? What is their purpose? How are they at all beneficial to life on Earth? Who thought creating them was a good idea? Where in the recesses of Lucifer's sphincter does that smell come from? And — most importantly — when will it come off my dogs?

OK, so I have several questions rolling around in my brain that is currently wilting under this malodorous cloud ripe with the scent of rotten eggs cooked in sulfur and seasoned with broken dreams and shattered hearts.

Am I being a tad dramatic?

No. No, I am not.

If you were smelling what I am smelling right now — and if you were smelling it on your two dogs to whom you just gave two very soapy baths — you wouldn't think I was being dramatic either.

Now, I am sure that there is some skunk appreciation society out there whose members are going to get all bent out of shape about this next statement, but I'll say it anyway and risk the emails and comments about how skunks are these warmhearted and cute creatures when, in reality, they are nothing more than fancy-looking fart squirrels that are unnecessary to the fabric of existence.

Again, this message is brought to you by the guy whose two dogs smell as if they just returned from the bowels of the damned and brought with them all of the spoiled leftovers sitting in the back of Beelzebub's basement refrigerator. And because midnight has now passed and the stores at which I would purchase the necessary accoutrements to rid my abode of this stench are closed, here I remain with nothing to do but sit and wait and write.

If I seem a little more riled up by this than necessary, allow me to provide some further context.

Leading up to the assault on my dogs and my senses, I spent the previous two days being assaulted by food poisoning. Oh yeah, it has been just a stellar start to the week for yours truly.

I'll obviously spare you the gory and gruesome details of my stomach malady, but suffice it to say both the northern and southern regions were at Defcon 5 or Defcon 1 ... whichever one is the absolute most severe. Either way, my body was in no shape to handle skunk stink. Neither was my mental health.

At one point, all I wanted to know was what I did to deserve this. What wrongs had I committed? What divine rules had I violated to usher in this fetid fire and brimstone on top of the violent bodily eruptions I'd just endured?

But the only acceptable answer is that it just comes with the territory. Sometimes these things just happen when you're living on a rock that's floating through the cosmos, right?

Some weeks are filled with vomit and diarrhea and skunks.

Others are filled with health and wellness and sweetly scented dogs.

Going through a week with one certainly makes you appreciate the weeks you have with the others.

So I'll sit here the rest of the night with two freshly bathed dogs next to me, with every candle I own burning bright, with that nasty, god-awful smell still roiling around in my nose and with the knowledge that this too shall pass.

At least that's what I'm telling myself through the tears in my burning eyes.

Reach Sports Editor Brendan Quealy at bquealy@record-eagle.com.