No Matter How Cute They Are...

When you're pregnant, this insane maternal instinct kicks in where you can actually be brought to tears at the sight of a baby animal in jeopardy.

The first time I witnessed this was two-years ago, when my friend was pregnant and a group of us were watching a YouTube video of an alligator attacking a lion cub.

My friend backed up from the computer and waved her hands in front of her face. "Turn it off! Turn it off! That's horrible!" she shouted as we contined to watch the safari-gone-bad moment with wide eyes.

I found her sensitivity humorously touching at the time.

Then, three months ago, I saw a baby skunk stumbling in the park across from our house. It was mid-afternoon, not really skunk-patrol time. It was all alone. It lopped side to side. It was a baby.

My husband had to hold me back from running across the street and scooping it up in my arms.

A number of torrential rainstorms came shortly after, and I spent most of the summer convinced that our little Pepe Le Pewe was a goner.

Until this weekend. The little guy, still a runt with barely-there-hair on its tail, was spotted by my hubby Saturday morning limping through the park grass. He pointed him out to me and you would think my lost long baby had been returned. More tears were quickly wiped from my eyes. We drove off, me feeling a huge sense of relief that the natural world was indeed a just and good place.

That is until that night, when the skunk came across the street and shot his love juice at our house.

Two days later our living room still carries the residual stench of stunk.

What compelled this little black and white bundle of stink-ass to come to our property?

And why do I suspect that this is the same sort of payoff I can expect for the first six weeks of my baby's life?