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Whenever I spread marmalade, I am reminded of my mother, a five-foot-tall angel who even befriended a skunk.
One day, while she was busy picking beans in the backyard, she came across a skunk no more than a meter away.
The skunk's embarrassment was evident as he had undoubtedly been rummaging through the garbage. He still had a marmalade jar stuck on his nose.
Mom took pity on him. Instead of worrying the creature would spray something smelly all over her and the beans, she smiled compassionately at the little thing and extended a helping hand.
Kneeling on the ground, she inched across the grass, reached out, and twisted the jar—very carefully.
The jar slipped off. The skunk nodded a thank-you before slipping away into the woods at the back of the garden. Obviously, there was no spraying incident, thanks to my remarkable mother.
She repeated this tale numerous times, always calling the skunk Marmalade. However, that was not the end of the story.
Three summers later, when I was about twelve, another encounter occurred.
It was a rainy morning, and both my mother and father had gone to work. My friend Rob came over to play and we decided to run the electric train in my room.
Suddenly, a scratching sound emerged from the attic. Rob assumed that it might be some kind of animal. Curiosity got the better of us, and we ventured towards the source of the sound.
I cautiously opened the attic door in the hall. The noise ceased abruptly.
I climbed up the stairs, Rob following my lead. There behind the toy box near the chimney stood the animal-black with a distinct white stripe down his back.
Was he scared and trembling? I believe so, at least that's what I remember.
Instinctively, I retreated, fearing the potential spray or bites from the creature. "Hey, Rob," I whispered urgently, "It's a skunk. Let's go to the kitchen and figure out a way to get him out of here."
续写第一段:In the cupboard, several paper cups and a jar of marmalade caught our sight.
续写第二段:Rob and I fo