Summary

Traddles, a beloved dog who overcame mange and became a cherished pet, had a peculiar penchant for getting sprayed by skunks, which led to a series of unsuccessful attempts to remove the pungent odor.

Abstract

Traddles was a neighborhood dog who, after being afflicted with mange and nursed back to health, was adopted by the narrator. Despite his noble and friendly demeanor, he had an unfortunate habit of chasing and getting sprayed by skunks, leading to a persistent and overpowering stench that was nearly impossible to eliminate. The family tried various home remedies to neutralize the smell, but ultimately had to endure the odor until it naturally dissipated. This incident was a recurring problem, as Traddles never seemed to learn from his encounters with skunks. The narrative humorously reflects on Traddles' skunk chases, drawing a parallel to the character's resilience and happiness in Charles Dickens' "David Copperfield," and offers three morals related to learning from experiences, the use of cheap perfume, and the freedom to make one's own choices.

Opinions

Traddles' encounters with skunks were seen as both a humorous and exasperating aspect of his personality.
The author expresses a deep fondness for Traddles, describing him as a noble and kind dog who overcame adversity.
Despite the frustration, there is an underlying tone of affection and acceptance for Traddles' quirks, including his skunk obsession.
The futility of the remedies to remove the skunk smell is acknowledged with a sense of resignation and humor.
The author suggests that Traddles' repeated skunk encounters may have been due to either love or bad luck, indicating a playful speculation about the dog's motivations.

Something Stinky This Way Comes…

Or “Oh no! Traddles got skunked, again!”

“It smelled like something died, farting in her mouth.” — The Beautician and the Beast

Traddles was one of the best dogs. But he had a thing for skunks. He would chase them down and come back with the most horrible smell. It was your worst nightmare, it was death itself, it was pungent and putrid and made your eyes water out of your nose.

It also smelled slightly like Starbucks.

Why was Traddles the only dog that got skunked? Was it love? Or just bad luck? We never found out for sure.

He started out his life as a neighborhood pup. A regular Tramp going from house to country house.

Just like Visa, he was everywhere he wanted to be. Not every animal was received kindly in the country, but there was something about this black pup with the one floppy ear that no one could resist. He got treats and love wherever he went.

When we moved to the country to be closer to my aging grandmother, this little fluffy visitor would come for visits and follow us around. Then, one day, he went missing.

When he showed back up, he was a lanky, too-skinny, half-grown dog with a full-on case of the mange. He looked like an overgrown hairless chihuahua with flies buzzing around him like Pigpen from Charlie Brown. He smelled strange, too. We popped him in the car and headed to the vet.

The vet told us it was good news and bad.

Good news was that the mange he had was not transferrable to humans. Ok, check. Bad news was that it was the worst kind a dog could have. He would die if he weren’t treated.

We weren’t sure who his owners were. Or if he even had any. But we weren’t just going to sit by and let such a good dog die of non-transferrable mange.

Several treatments and hundreds of dollars later, the vet said “I think he’s yours now.” The half-grown dog thought so too because he stuck around after that.

His coat grew out and his bones covered back over with flesh and this mutt now looked like some pure-bred, exotic German Shepherd.

We kept him and named him Traddles. It was a reference to a lesser-known character from David Copperfield who was always happy in spite of bad circumstances. Traddles would draw skeletons for fun (the character, Traddles, not the dog.)

He was the best dog. And very noble. He kept his ears tucked in a stately way against his head. But when he got excited, at least one ear would bounce to attention. He undid trauma from other strays and was always kind to everyone. He was the perfect dog.

But he attracted skunks. We joked that he was Pepe Le Pew. Who painted the white stripe down your back this time, Traddles?

If we smelled a skunk somewhere, it would be “Oh no. Where’s Traddles?” He would come back with a bit of swagger in his step smelling like something had died farting all over him.

While our eyes watered, we read everything in the books to cancel out that smell. We tried tomato juice, vinegar, and any other pet-friendly remedy that we could read about through our watery tears.

Spoiler: Nothing is powerful enough to undo the power of a skunk spray.

He loved to jump in the water, but this serial bath cocktail was not his idea of fun. We’d bathe him until he became a regular skunk-marinated salad. He would get depressed and mope, after.

Maybe he liked the smell of skunk. Maybe it was his favorite perfume.

I think one wall of our garage is still faintly stained with the splatter of a tomato bath where he decided to shake off and splatter skunk-flavored tomato juice long ago.

We’d finally give up trying to neutralize the smell and we’d just live with him and the smell that had its own separate life. Usually, the stench would wear off in a few days.

He would finally smell, I won’t say good, but like a normal dog, again.

…Until the next skunk came into town.

Traddles was a smart dog. But everyone and their dog has an Achilles’ heel.

In the area of skunks, Traddles never learned.

“Traadddllesss!!!! Skunk! NOoooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooo!”

Moral 1: Question everything. (Why am I chasing this skunk? How can my past experiences guide me? Will the result be different this time?)

Moral 2: Some cheap perfumes need to be used with caution… or really just not at all. Do you want to have friends?

Moral 3: Ignore the first two morals and you do you. It’s not like anyone can stop you.