Have I ever mentioned that I can't smell skunk? Normally, I have a very strong sense of smell. I swear I can smell a peanut butter cup from a mile away. When it comes to skunk smell, however, I'm "blind". We've driven past road kill that has made Mr Moo retch, but I could only detect the tiniest bit of something "off". I wouldn't have known it was a skunk without him telling me. I remember being able to smell it as a child, but not so much as an adult. I can't remember exactly when it turned off though. It might have been a puberty thing. I might have smelled it too strongly one day and it killed off certain cells in my nose. The hypochondriac in me swears it's a brain tumor. Who knows. I just know I can't smell it anymore. It's a blessing and curse. It's a blessing because, well, it's gross and I don't have to smell it anymore. It's a curse because you know it's just a matter of time before I have an encounter where I'll be completely oblivious and get doused. Not that I'll care since I can't smell it, but think of poor Mr Moo having to live with me.

Last last night, just before bed, Mr Moo started making that face and complaining of the stink. The patio light was on, but we couldn't see anything (from the safety of our second floor bedroom window, of course) out back. He must have been hiding out in the shadows because one of the MooCams captured the following evidence just a short while later:

At least we know Mr Moo's nose is still working properly.