When Dud hits the skunk I hear a wet thwap like a flip-flop sucking through mud, and the stench is instant, oily and carbolic, seeping through the floorboards of the car like a noxious gas.

“God, stop! I’m gonna be sick.” Dud tosses me a Cosco bag.

“It’s best we keep driving and leave the stink behind.”

That’s when we hit the white cat. There was no moon and it was dark as the inside of a boot so we never saw it coming.

I wipe my mouth with a Kleenex and put my hand on the agate and birch bark amulet Sadie gave me the day before, wondering if the amulet has brought us more bad luck. But Sadie’s father made this craftsy little necklace and he’s 91 years old and looks just like Topo Gigio. I don’t think a 91 year old man who’s a dead ringer for Topo Gigio would put bad juju in a necklace.