Matthew was bent over going "ow!" (I thought he'd dropped the can on his foot, but as it turns out, the first spray had shot him in the eye.) Hobkin was watching the show, only a few steps away from ground zero. And the wounded can was still hissing and spitting its insides in a wide spray. I grabbed up the nearly-empty can and deposited it in the sink, plucked up the Dew-covered skunk and deposited him in his area, and then took stock.
Husband red-eyed and blinking, but fortunately none the worse from being shot in the face with high-pressure citrus soda. Kitchen covered in sticky liquid. Husband covered in sticky liquid. Self covered in sticky liquid. Skunk covered in sticky liquid, wanting to get to the sticky liquid puddles lying on the floor. Dinner continuing to cook on the stove.
Matthew and I took turns cleaning the kitchen and showering off the Dew. Tried to dry off Hobkin with paper towels, salient word being try. We all had our abbreviated dinner. Then it was skunk bath-time resulting in no-longer-sticky but most definitely miffed and damp skunk for several hours.
The funny thing is, Hobkin was right next to Matthew when the can fell and exploded. Normally, I would have expected him to startle and puff his tail up, maybe run for cover, but he took it all in stride. It's weird what will set off the little fuzzhead and what won't.
So we're mostly recovered from our mishap. But the kitchen floor is still sticky.