…well, when I say in the Echo, I mean a picture of Brennan’s skunk was in the paper; as opposed to the actual creature which, as anyone who lives near me in the Twilight Zone knows, is missing in action. If Malita wasn’t missing, it’s unlikely that she’d be having her 15 minutes of fame in the local press as skunks are twenty to the dozen. Pardon?
Perhaps not necessarily in Dorset but Malita has come all the way from Gloucester which explains things. Pardon?
A couple of weeks ago I had a birthday party. As the weather was still good, we were enjoying our lemonade in the garden which meant that other folk could hear us. Being largely comprised of nouveaux pensioners, this was not a rowdy do. More sort of boisterous. Anyway, when the doorbell rang, I assumed it was a late guest but – no- it was Brennan and son wanting to know if anyone had seen his skunk. The son had brought along a soft toy skunk as a visual aid for any of the oldies suffering from terminal confusion. Being a sociable type, I asked them in for a drink wherein, it transpired, the skunk had disappeared ten days previously. Some of the more cynical of those present rather unkindly voiced the opinion that this was the best gate-crash ever. Oh, you non-believers.
Malita lives in a Wendy house in next door’s front garden. Lived. I didn’t know her name was Malita but then I didn’t know his name was Brennan. Be fair, they’ve only lived there for four years. In the Twilight Zone – lately known as the Valley of the Shadow of Death owing to the recent proliferation of inhabitants who are themselves late – it’s sensible not to mix too readily. Anyway, it turns out that Brennan and I share a distaste for leaflet distributors as it was one of this species who, having deposited 400 Lidl adverts and 106 pizza menus through his vulnerable letter box, left the garden gate open.
Dorset Wildlife Trust are on the case as they’re anxious to save local lizards, frogs and birds from an untimely demise at the claws of the roaming skunk. I don’t think they’ve got much to worry about – Brennan’s little boy told me the other day that Malita had been spotted emerging from someone’s cat-flap wiping the remains of Felix from her mouth with a handy napkin. Onwards and upwards then.