I turned the car off, and we stepped out into the mellow air of the season.
"Wow, a log house!" Sophia exclaimed, as I walked around to the back of the SUV to grab a couple of bags. "Did you build it yourself, Jack?"
"No," I replied. "I was going to, but I found a small company that was closing down. I agreed to purchase all of the logs they had, and they gave me a great deal on building this from my plans. I still have enough logs left to hire someone to build the garage at some point, or maybe I'll do it myself. It's not important at the moment."
Portia took the remaining luggage and followed me to the front porch. I set the bags down and fumbled for my keys, when a barred owl hooted with the familiar, "Who cooks for you; who cooks for you all" call, from a half mile away or so. I smiled, and put my keys back in my pocket.
"C'mon," I said, as I motioned for them to follow me back into the front yard. "I'll see if I can call him in."
I put my hands on either side of my mouth, and called back in a perfect mimic of the bird's own call. It responded in a few seconds, so I replied with a friendly "hoo-ahh!" and waited. Several seconds later, it called out again, this time from the edge of the woods.
"He knows it's me." I said to Portia and Sophia. "Let's see if he'll come in closer."
I repeated the call, and a quiet, whooshing silhouette sailed overhead, as the bird swooped in and landed on the lamppost about twenty feet away.
"Be still and quiet." I said in a hushed tone.
The bird swiveled its head around a few times, and then seemed to home in on something further out in the grass. It spread its wings and after a few flaps, glided in silently striking the ground and taking off again. A faint squeal could be heard, as the owl headed back toward the forest with a vole clutched in its talons.
"Dinner for Woodsy." I remarked, as we returned to the front porch. "Between the owls and the cats, they really help keep the mice and snakes down around here. Speaking of cats, I hear them on the other side of the door."
I unlocked the sturdy oak door and the strong aroma of eastern red cedar wafted out of the house. We were also immediately besieged by a group of excited and meowing cats. I hadn't expected to have been gone this long, and despite my filling their food and water bowls to the brim, the food was all gone.
"Who wants some FOO-ood?!" called out.
This elicited even more feverish yowling; particularly from a large, gray, bibbed-tuxedo Norwegian forest cat named Loki. They circled around me like furry barracudas, as I opened the plastic container that held the large bag of dry food.
"Here you go!" I said with a laugh, as I filled the large stainless steel salad bowl with more cat food. "Sorry Guys!"
The cats quieted down, and I turned back to my guests.
"I'll introduce you later." I said with a smile, as I switched on the overhead light.
The area had been dimly illuminated by a nightlight along the open staircase that led to the second floor, but now, the entire open space was clearly visible.
"This is beautiful!" Portia marveled, as she glanced around.
"And it smells so good!" Sophia piped up enthusiastically. "It smells just like that gift shop at the cavern this morning."
This morning! It seemed like a week ago, with all of the excitement we'd had today. I left the door open, as I picked up the luggage and moved it into the vestibule.
"Home, sweet cabin!" I said exuberantly. "I told you it would smell nice. I've gotten used to it; you will too, but it gets in my clothes and everything. I don't ever need to worry about cologne."
I reached to close the door, when a medium sized black and white animal about the size of Loki came darting in and chittered at me, before making a beeline for the food as well. He muscled his way in for something to eat, just like he was a member of the family.
"That's a funny-looking kitty." Sophia remarked. "Look at the nose on him, Mama. He looks like a poofy, zebra-possum."
Portia looked startled and gasped, as she recognized the animal.
"Mama Mia; la moffetta!" she exclaimed. "Quello non รจ un gatto, Sophia!"
Now as I said earlier, my Italian isn't so hot, but I recognize a lot of root words. In French, it's la mouffette; close enough. She knew full well what had just wandered inside the house, and like most people, panicked at the sight of a polecat.
"That's Earl." I explained. "He's a skunk, or what we call it here in the South, a polecat."
"I know what the fuck he is!" Portia hollered. "We have them in Europe too. Why is he inside the house?!"
"He likes cat food, I reckon." I replied. "He's probably hungry too. Skunks get a bad rap. They're actually pretty friendly, and they go after rodents, snakes and even hornet nests. Earl is the only one left - out of his family - so he hangs around the yard a lot."
"He's not dangerous?" she inquired dubiously. "You don't think that he will spray us?"
"No." I laughed. "Skunks are in the weasel family, but they aren't hostile. They also won't spray unless they have to. It takes a week or so to recharge, so they won't waste it on an angry moment. I'll check on him before we go to bed, to see if he wants out."
Portia shook her head.
"You're weird Jack," she sighed, "but it fits you. Somehow, in some weird way, having a friendly skunk walk into your house and start eating Sunday dinner with your cats is exactly something you would do."