I got back from a week away (at the IFL for a serious - and superb - course), and was greeted by Fran with the words, "Smell your son."
"When did he get hit?" I asked.
"This morning, right up the street."
Apparently, he bolted out of Kath's hands, and into the butt of a skunk, again. It's only been a few months since the last incident. I hoped he might have learned his lesson, but nooooooooooooooooooo. Not Derwaller.
Kath did an excellent job giving him a stinkectomy, and there's barely an odor.
Derwaller is certainly a challenging dog.