TIFU By Adopting a Skunk Thinking It Was a Kitten

So, I'm the guy who accidentally adopted a baby skunk. Yeah, that guy. Let's relish in this shit-heap of a life lesson together, shall we? So, hear me out, my dumb ass thought it was a kitten. It was night, a miserable, freezing January night and I was coming home from work a bit drunk, not gonna lie, and I see this fuzzy little fella freezing his ass off outside my apartment. I'm a sucker for animals, I've two cats and a dog already, so I scooped the poor thing up, brought it inside, set it up in a towel-filled box in the bathroom and went to sleep, utterly pleased with my drunken act of heroism.

Woke up next morning, staggered to the bathroom with a hangover slamming a jackhammer in my skull, open the door, and the God-awfully familiar smell just fucking assaults me. It took me a second, then it clicked. Skunk. I adopted a fucking skunk. So, yeah, I'm up shit creek without a paddle, with a bottle of tomato juice in one hand and an irate baby skunk in the other, trying not to get sprayed whilst my cats are freaking out and my dog is trying to play with the little stinker. To add insult to injury, Skunkie, as I've started to call it, has taken a liking to me. I'm like a fucking Disney princess now, except instead of birds and chipmunks, I attract skunks. Fuck my life.

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