When it's not a plastic bag

My name is Jessica, and I'm dramatic. I overreact, and I tend to take myself a little too seriously.

They say that pets learn to reflect the personalities of their owners. Our family has a wonderful dog that tends to overreact. Is that related to the amount of time she has spent with me?

I've gotten better over the years about lightening up. Every once in a while, a lesson comes along that reminds me to laugh about the things that are funny.

And every once in a while, the dog isn't the one overreacting.

Once upon a time...

It had been a long week. My whole family was exhausted and not for normal reasons. My sister is a dance teacher, and the beginning of her dance studio occurred when she decided to invite a bunch of children over to our house for a week-long dance workshop on our side porch. Yes, you read that correctly.

Our side porch. She planned to teach dance lessons and put on a show at the end of the week. Our first year, it started out small. We had 18 participants counting my sister. No big deal. Fast forward about five years, and we had over 50 kids participating.

It's a unique experience that borders on magical for the kids.

What's it like being on the other side? I couldn't be more proud of my sister's skills and natural talent. It's a long week, but little dancers run around the yard and play when it's not their turn to dance. (Remind me to tell you about the time I provided the group with supplemental lightsabers for the lightsaber battles.) Parents hang out and socialize in our areas of limited shade. And our poor dog continuously goes nuts about the fact that she is not invited to socialize with the children unless she's on her leash.

It can be draining, but I do love it.

Anyway, twas the night before the show, and our whole family was taking a moment to breathe. I had made myself a nice cup of tea and had settled down on the back porch to read my book.

We had been using the back porch for dancing this week as well, so we had moved all the furniture. But my sister had strung up Christmas lights, and it gave the entire area an aura of tranquility.

I sat cross-legged on the ground, savoring these moments of peace and calm before I would go to bed. I sighed contentedly. This was the life.

Our dog, Sunshine, has a tie out in the yard directly beyond the back porch. If she knows a family member is on the back porch, she wants to come outside on her tie out. She wanted to be with me, so Mom let her out.

Sunshine is a golden retriever. She's one of the sweetest dogs you'll ever meet, but she barks fiercely at anything that moves.

A person walking by? How dare they walk down my street without stopping to pet me?

A dog walking by? That dog wants to be my best friend!

A deer hanging out in the nearby woods? It is invading my yard!

A plastic bag blowing by on a gust of wind? It's probably a bomb!

When Sunshine came out, I wasn't shocked when she bolted across the yard. My first assumption was that it was a plastic bag that she felt the need to attack or something else equally ridiculous.

Our back porch is a concrete slab at ground level with an awning over it. Sunshine was to my left, beyond the far edge of the porch, growling and barking at something.

That something felt the need to move onto the porch, and suddenly within ten feet of me was a skunk.

To say that I screamed would be the understatement of the year. This was no lighthearted, "I'm a little surprised right now" type of scream. This wasn't even "I'm going down a hill on a roller coaster" type of scream.

Not to be cliché, but this was actually "There's been a bloody murder" type of scream. I have a great pair of lungs. When I scream, it is never a halfhearted endeavor.

My family was at the back door in an instant. I bolted for the door and reached the safety of the house. Sunshine was not so fortunate. She isn't the type of dog that comes when you call her. This, joint with the skunk feeling threatened by the scream, led to a sprayed dog.

That night, I learned the following:

1. When a dog is sprayed by a skunk at close-range, it smells like burnt garlic and rubber.

2. People's idea of a good time is NOT giving the dog a bath in vinegar at eleven o'clock at night.

I was also thoroughly reminded by my younger sister of "Skunk training 101" which is "don't scream when you see a skunk." Yeah, thanks, sis.

Okay, so it was all crazy. To top it off, we put raw potato wedges around the house the next day. (We read online that it can help absorb some of the smell, but man, does it look weird.)

But I was reminded that sometimes a situation is outright funny. Screaming and causing your dog to get sprayed by a skunk the night before a dance show? Right before your aunt and uncle who haven't visited in 25 years come to visit?

Yeah, that's funny. Maybe not in the immediate moment, but funny.

Learning to laugh at yourself isn't always easy, but it is a valuable skill to develop.

I'll just have to wait and see how many skunks it will take me.