My friends, I have written at some length about family pets, past and present. But I fear I may have misled you in a fundamental way by discussing only those pets that followed the canine or feline persuasion.

During my storied childhood we had pets of all shapes and sizes and attitudes towards life. There were numerous unwanted lambs over the years (the ewes would sometimes “take a notion,” as the saying goes, and reject their babies). The longest lived and most memorable of these lambs was Crystal. I always got a kick out of approaching the fence and watching while all the other sheep fled as from an air raid, while Crystal came over to say hello.

There was the rabbit Gremlin, who attacked if you got too close. Rounding out the pantheon of mammals, we had various hamsters and gerbils, and for a while, a white rat with pink eyes whom I named Ophelia Rose.

At least once we had some non-mammals, in the form of some lizards who ate mealworms and occasionally each other.

But the star attraction of all of this has to be the skunk Dallas. My sister Mary was living in an apartment in Mechanicsville, Virginia when she up and went to the pet store and came home with a tiny, recently de-scented, skunk. Mary’s landlord, being not born yesterday, soon sent Dallas packing out to the farm, where she happily lived out her days. Our parents were fiercely devoted to their grand-skunk.

I asked Mary about her memories of Dallas and here is what she said: “She was so sweet. Very playful. She would chase me stomping her feet, bristling up and doing handstands. Then she would curl up in my lap and take a nap and purr. Her favorite foods were cauliflower, bread and butter, bacon, cod liver oil and strawberry ice cream.”

Dallas gained lifelong notoriety by eating the flowers at my sister Laura’s wedding reception.

I used to think that skunks were like cats, but no, not at all. I picked Dallas up one time and found her to be built somewhat like a square, meaty pillow with a foot attached to each corner. Laura wrote a wonderful poem about Dallas, which in one verse referenced her sturdy frame. While searching for words that rhyme with “Dallas,” Laura came up with this well-metered gem: “if ever a ship shipped out from here, she could sign aboard as ballast.”

If anybody happens to have a copy of that poem, it will soon grace these pages. Laura? You’re up.