A young skunk family moved in today. Upon arrival, the mother informed me that Mr. Alexander had arranged the rental agreement on her behalf. He had given her a brochure, complete with detailed photos, highlighting an expansive yard with ample room for her children to play hide and seek. The modest two-story home overlooked a magical fairy garden with a gentle stream weaving its way like a secret under the wooden footbridge and through the greenery.
I gave her a tour of the property. Her children, shy at first, grew increasingly lively as they ran and tumbled along behind us. She mentioned she knew Mr. Donkey who lived on the east end of the property. With a bright smile, she added that they got along splendidly and she expressed a strong preference for a spot near him. Then she inquired about the other tenants.
When I told her that Mrs. Duck also lived here, with two children close in age to her own, her expression wavered, but she gave a small shake of her head, as if convincing herself this would not be an issue.
Mrs. Skunk seemed particularly enchanted by the rock wall and the wooden bridge. When describing the large pussy willow in full bloom, she laughed with delight. The meadow was brimming with buds, waiting patiently for the sun’s invitation to bloom.
I reminded her of the community rules, as outlined in the contract: no disturbing the neighbors with loud noises and no offensive scents or odors, as some residents have sensitive noses or allergies. She looked momentarily taken aback and asked how violations were handled.
I explained our three-warning system—followed by immediate eviction if the behavior continued. She appeared slightly relieved.
At the end of the tour Mrs. Skunk said she was ready to sign and already had her certified check with the deposit ready. She inquired when she might be able to move her and the children in. I assured her as soon as the papers were signed and the check was received, the key would be hers. She also asked if there was anyone who could help her move. I handed her a business card for Plott Hound Labrador Moving Company. I told her the owner is old but still runs a tight ship and she could trust his crew to treat her belongings like their own.
Later that evening as I sat on the porch enjoying a steaming cup of Earl Grey, I noticed a black van backing into the lot on the east end of the property. The two young skunks leapt from the back seat followed by their mother. From the passenger side, a young bulldog stumbled out, while the driver’s door opened to reveal a very pale—and slightly green—Mr. Plott.
As I watched them unload, I wondered whether I might have made a mistake in allowing Mrs. Skunk and her children to move in. In time the truth will surface. Indeed, the truth will surface in time.