Yeah. No joke. So Chewie has been penned up in the car for a little over 2 hours at this point. And he was grumbly. If you have ever heard him grumble, you get it. Old man curmudgeon, grumbly.

So he's grumbling in his car seat most of the way home from dance class and cranks up the volume as we are turning into the parking lot. I finally pull into my spot and he is practically exploding with energy as I attempt to extricate him from his seat.
He's out of the car on his leash and waiting for me, impatiently pulling, and then he full on starts growling. Now, he's 3.5 pounds. So he's growling. More like purring. But I'm all, DUDE... GIVE ME 5 SECONDS TO GET MY SHIT TOGETHER! And then I turn around, and 3 feet away from Chewie, in front of a bush, there he is... Mr Skunk... his white stripe glowing in the night. And there's Chewie, lunging all 3.5 pounds of his body weight against the leash I am holding with the tip of my left pinkie.
My eyes just about bug out of my head and a million thoughts rush through my head in that moment. There is a skunk - in the landscaping of my urban development in the middle of Bridgeport! It's really cute! And little - he's just a little guy like Chewie awwwww. A skunk? Oh god they stink! And Chewie is growling ohgodwhatifitsprays?! my car?! me?! Chewie?! ohshitohshitohshit RUN!!!
So I drop everything I am futsing with in my back seat, slam the car doors and run the eff away with Chewie sprinting alongside. (my light jogging training seems to be paying off)
But now I spend the rest of the night imagining someone running over the thing and I want to go out and protect him... and then I imagine what my car will smell like when one of my neighbors runs him over. Ew. And then I look at Chewie and ask him what he thought of the experience, but he's too busy rubbing his teeny tiny tushy on the softest piece of material in the room to remember anything about Mr Skunk.