of a white-striped booger cat last night. As I learned from a somewhat frantic/pissed-off call from Dad.
Bad: Scared hell out of them, and the yard smells like- well, you ever smelled FRESH violently-dead skunk?
Good: not a mark on him, his shots are up to date, and he apparently hit the little bastard from the side, and so fast that it couldn't spray him.
Ah, the joys of the livestock...