It was still dark when I walked down to the bus this morning on my way to my last day of work before vacation. That's the pre-dawn moment when skunks tend to come out, so I've learned to keep my eyes open for them. Sure enough, this morning there was a cute little one foraging under the trees at the side of the road, a darker shadow among the shadows.
As I went past, I found myself singing quietly just to let it know I was there, so I didn't startle it. Startled skunks are never a good thing. Somehow the tune that came out of my mouth was "Singing in the Rain," with the words changed to, roughly, "I'm singing to the skunk, just singing to the skunk, to let you know I'm here and not to come over here. 'Cause neither of us wants to meet, as I walk down the street, I'm singing, just singing to the skunk..."
I don't know why that particular song came to mind or why I thought of singing in the first place... I don't know if the skunk was a Nacio Herb Brown aficionado, or if it even understood English. One can't assume. This is Canada, after all...
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