Bilbo Baggins

When we were first married in 1968, Kathy told me she would like two house-pets, a miniature goat and a skunk. We were saving our money for a down payment on a house and a 6-month European camping trip; we agreed that now was not the right time to acquire pets, but after the camping trip we would see. We took our camping trip in 1970, and when we came back to the US we bought our first house.

I was opposed to a goat of any size. I believed its hooves would tear up the floors, and I did not believe it was possible to house-break an animal that didn't naturally live in a den. But by the time of Kathy's birthday in February 1971 I had arranged to take delivery of a ranch-bred, descented, baby skunk as soon as it was weaned. Kathy received her little skunk a month or so later. She named him Bilbo Baggins after the hero of “The Hobbit” because hobbits have furry feet and so did the skunk. Bilbo soon learned to use a litter box. He was incredibly cute, and we spent lots of time playing with him. They say raccoons wash their food, and so did Bilbo. We gave him grapes which he would play with by rolling them around the floor; when he tired of this game he carried the grape over to his water dish, washed it thoroughly, and then ate it. When we took him out in the yard to play he often dug in the lawn for grubs which he thought were a great treat. We had chosen a male because we were afraid that if we had a female her scent would attract wild males, while a male would mark his territory which might keep wild males away.

Bilbo couldn't climb stairs so he was confined to the first floor. He appropriated the space under the couch as his “den”. He loved to play with strings, and he sometimes surprised visitors who sat on the couch by reaching out and tugging on their shoelaces.

Bilbo became extremely attached to his human family. When we went away for weekends we hired a neighbor girl to come feed Bilbo twice a day, but while we were gone he sulked and refused to eat. Before one trip we left a long tail on the toilet paper in the downstairs bathroom. Bilbo discovered he could reach the dangling end and pulled it around the house, completely emptying the roll. What a mess!

Since leaving him at home caused Bilbo so much unhappiness we began taking him with us. One weekend we went to visit some friends who lived in a log cabin in the woods near Woodstock Vermont. Since Bilbo was so attached to us, we allowed him to wander freely around the yard without fear that he would not come back. At the end of the weekend we drove home to Massachusetts, and when we arrived the phone was ringing (this was before cell phones). Our weekend hostess asked “Is Bilbo with you?” When we assured her he was, she told us there was a skunk in her kitchen – she didn't know whether to pick it up or stay well away. Apparently it had followed Bilbo's scent into the house, looking for a playmate. With no sudden moves from our friends, the wild skunk eventually wandered out and away.

The following year our first child was born. As soon as we brought her home Bilbo became very jealous. Most of the attention that had gone to him was now going to her. As long as she was not mobile, spent most of her time upstairs, and we took care to spend extra time with Bilbo, an uneasy co-existence was maintained. But the following year, when the baby began to play on the floor downstairs, that came to an end. Bilbo began “marking his territory” all around the periphery of the first floor, and darting out from under the couch to attack the baby. Even though he couldn't spray, he could scratch and bite. We began to fear that he would injure our daughter. We did everything we could think of to try to get Bilbo to accept her, but his jealousy and anger continued unabated. We finally decided we would have to get him out of the house. Because he was so bonded to us we didn't think trying to find someone else to adopt him would work. Kathy called every zoo and animal park we could find, but because he wasn't really wild none of them would take him. Finally, we decided the only solution was to have him “put to sleep” by the vet.

Bilbo resisted being touched or held by anyone but Kathy and me. Whenever we took him to the vet, he would bite and scratch fiercely unless one of us held him, but in our arms he would docilely allow the vet to poke and prod him. So when I took him in for his lethal injection there was no question that I would hold him in my arms while the shot was administered. Of course I felt like a traitor! But the injection took effect quickly and he died peacefully. That was 42 years ago, but we still miss him.

Written as an assignment for the writers' group at The Fountains in April 2015.  The assignment was to write about a pet.