An Addition to the Neighborhood Wildlife Siting List

Skunks.

After another evening endured in my sweltering cave, windows closed, drapes shut, fan blaring to little avail against the heat and humidity, I finally threw the apartment open after sundown to let the breeze in. It's finally cooler outside than inside.

To give myself a reprieve from heat and work, I shut off the computer, mixed myself a kimjito* (the Kimmijo recipe for a mojito, since I have no idea whether or not I'm making it correctly), and sat outside for a spell, watching the fireflies wink on and off and offering up my smooth white skin to the mandibles of Michigan's state bird, the mosquito.

I heard a faint squeak. I looked up to see a strip of black shag carpet undulating across the street. I saw a white dot at the trailing end. Ah, a wee skunk. It wiggled over to the shrubbery at the end of the driveway belonging to the Mexican landscapers. ("That's really stereotypical," new friend N. commented, eyeing me somewhat suspiciously. "I can't help it," I replied. "It's what they do. See, it's right there on the side of their beater pick-up truck.") Shortly thereafter, an even smaller skunk emerged from beneath the neighbor's fence and took a similar path to meet, presumably, its sibling. I smiled and issued a prayer that neither of them will be hit by a car.

* Kimijto recipe

Put one teaspoon sugar in glass. Squeeze juice of half a lime over sugar and stir to dissolve. Add five or six good-sized mint leaves and muddle with a wooden spoon until scent of mint is released. Fill glass with ice. Pour over ice 2 oz. light rum and 1 oz. sparkling water. Stir, put on Tito Puente, and enjoy.