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Starting
Point On
the doorstep of our hearts
By JONI WOELFEL
As I stepped out onto our front
porch deck one evening, a movement in the corner caught my eye. I peered into
the growing dusk and caught my breath in shock, for there on our porch, eating
nonchalantly out of our cat dish, was a skunk! We have lived in our village for
nearly two-and-a-half decades and I have never, in all this time, encountered a
skunk in such close proximity. And even more bizarre, our black tomcat was
lying nearby on a rug, completely oblivious of the skunk, as if they were
friends.
Standing as still as a statue, I watched as the skunk finished
eating the cat food one small morsel at a time, delicately and thoroughly
cleaning up the few remaining bits that had fallen out of the dish. Not in the
least bit hurried, he ambled over by the snoozing cat. Now just a yard away, I
got a good look at the small, half-grown animal through the glass door. It was
the kind known as a striped skunk, with glossy black fur, a snow-white double
stripe on his back and a gorgeous plumed tail. I was mesmerized by his small,
friendly appearing face, with the white diamond on his forehead and bright
little eyes. I perceived a sense of good will about him, which I know is a very
odd comment to make about a skunk.
Later on the Web, I searched for information. Are skunks the nasty
creatures most people believe them to be? Are they a menace, carriers of the
dreaded rabies, thereby something to be disposed of and avoided at all costs?
According to research, apparently not. I learned that skunks of the striped
kind are docile, non-aggressive animals who live in woodland areas or places
not too far from water. They make dens under boulders or tree-stumps and are
social animals who are nurturing to their young. Since they live basically on
mice, insects and plant matter, they are actually a benefit to society. They
are also clean animals who only spray when alarmed, attacked or in danger.
Current studies I found say they are not carriers of rabies any more than any
other mammal.
But, I know, I know, it is probably not a good idea to befriend a
wild skunk, even though we named ours Monk and crouch by the glass door every
evening to watch in delight as he comes to visit just before dark. He has
become familiar with our voices, and yesterday, when I called to the cat behind
our house, it was not the cat who came out of the woods, but Monk! Native
Americans regard the skunk as powerful medicine, representing the importance of
self-respect, dignity, playfulness and nonchalance in the face of
mean-spiritedness or sorrow. They are also a symbol of walking tall in
spirit. It is here that our story with the little skunk deepens.
Our youngest son died in 1999 by probable suicide, and the skunk
appeared around the time that he would have graduated from high school this
last spring. We were dreadfully grief-stricken, and the arrival of the
entertaining skunk caused a small shift for us. I found I could not help but
grin through the tears -- and even laugh at the utter absurdity of it. If God
and our son had conspired to send a funny experience to comfort, encourage and
cheer, a skunk on the doorstep of our hearts could not have been better
medicine.
Joni Woelfel is the author of Tall in Spirit and The Light
Within (ACTA Publications). Her support Web site for teen/adult depression
and suicide prevention can be visited at
www.geocities.com/micsmessage/index.html
National Catholic Reporter, August 24,
2001
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