Like most evenings in late November when the sun sets before the post office often does, this was as midweek routine as the previous seven- until … This evening there was a building howl about 43 degrees with a spitting mist from the East, and we exited from the Northwest back door, to keep the house warm and the front door locked.
The walk was efficient from the normal complacency of a homebody dog, our Oceaee. The normal sniffs were quick and moving – it was cold and damp. Seldom was the slack drawn from a lengthy leash.
His gait quickened as I suspect did mine, now into the wind, with porch lights in sight. Instinctively we bypassed the front locked door, and I remember thinking: excellent recall on his part. But I was wrong.
The slack quickly zipped out of the leash and in the darkened Northern corner, I saw a flash of shadow, a tint of white and the soft whimper of my pup. In recoil and into the light he went full reverse, and he rolled his eyes in the grass and squirmed into the soil.
! SKUNK
Tales From The Rail 
Love your short stories Breck!
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