The Longest and Most Embarrassing Checkout Line in the History of Checkout Lines

Shiloh can be a bit of a high maintenance dog. It seems he is forever digging through the trash when we leave him home, or eating something that sends us rushing to the after-hours emergency clinic, or getting himself covered in ticks. I don't know how we will ever handle children.

We were in the middle of a particularly industrious evening a few nights ago. David was out cleaning the garage and I was doing some laundry, when I heard the front door crash open and my name being hollered. As I walked out of the bedroom, I smelled the problem before David could even get the words out.

Skunk.

Shiloh got it directly in the kisser. His whole face was wet (skunk spray is yellow, in case you were interested) and it was in his eyes. He was rubbing his face on the porch, the doormat, David's legs. David couldn't come in the house because all of our (garage-based) earthly possessions were spread out on the driveway and lawn, so the washing responsibility fell to me.

I poured plenty of clear water over his face first to try to rinse out his eyes. Then I proceeded to the washing. In the meantime, David was calling our vet-tech connection to see if there was anything in particular we should do for his eyes. Shiloh was rinsed, but still smelly when David came in with instructions. Instructions that included bathing him in douche.

Douche.

Ok, seriously? Douche? Like for feminine freshness? I suppose one of its functions IS odor control.

The skunk smell was still making us gag*, so we had to do something. The honor of the douche-run fell to me, since David was still getting things put back into the garage, and you can't ask a neighbor to run that kind of errand for you.

At the grocery store I perused the feminine care aisle and found that there were two brands of douche. One came in single-serving packages, while the other brand offered a 4-pack. That's what we needed. I grabbed two boxes and high-tailed it to the checkout, hoping for a speedy exit.

But there were half a dozen people already in line. The guy right in front of me was standing sideways looking at something on a shelf. When he caught sight of my purchase out of the corner of his eye, he quickly turned to face away from me. I undoubtedly smelled a bit skunky, which only made my selections more...peculiar. The checker and bagger were in super-chatty mode, so the line moved s-l-o-w-l-y and several more people got on line behind me. I could feel the red creeping up into my face. Why, WHY was everyone in that line male except me? And there were at least 4 other employees wandering around the front of the store. Why, WHY wasn't one of them opening up a new lane?

When I neared the belt I faced a dilemma. While holding my boxes, I could clutch them to my chest and partially conceal them with my arms, but to lay them out on the belt, my two multi-packs of feminine freshness product, then EVERYONE would see them! But if you don't stake your claim on a portion of the belt, then all the purchases slide forward beyond where the customers are standing. I kept holding them anyway. Finally I was next in line. I handed the boxes over to the checker, who immediately lost her chatty demeanor and hurriedly rang up my purchase.

The verdict on the douche? It works better than dog shampoo. You are supposed to use it before you even get the dog wet, but that wasn't even an option, since we had to get the spray out of his sad, squinty, burning eyes right away.

The card is for size comparison, so you can understand the magnitude of my embarrassment.


*Oh, but we didn't KNOW from stinky. Later, Shiloh threw up twice and the vomit - it smelled like concentrated skunk spray. Poor baby! It probably burned like crazy. But poor house too. Try getting THAT smell out of the carpet.