You know that I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. Nope, not me. Hubby, on the other hand, usually gets up well before 6am, but if I hear him, I choose to ignore the noise and snuggle deeper under the covers. For some unfathomable reason I woke up early this morning, and rolled out of my warm comfy bed when I heard the cats meowing at the door to be let in. By the time I made my way downstairs, the cats were in and hubby was outside with the dog, yelling at her to come to him. Sticking my head outside I understood the commotion. Our crazy dog was less than three feet away from a skunk, in definite danger of being sprayed. Been there, done that. Not in a mood for a repeat performance. What seemed like an eternity later, the skunk skittered under the shed, and we haven't seen a glimpse of it since. Now, because Pointdexter isn't any brighter than the dog (he's the one that eats worms, after all), he escaped back out when the dog came in and kept sniffing around where the skunk went under the shed, just begging for trouble. So far, so good. At the moment Pointdexter is back in the house, snuggled on my lap, purring softly. And he will remain inside if I have anything to say about it.