well that's an odd smell

Last night I took Quincy for a walk and he got sprayed by a skunk.
Poor Q had chased a skunk into some bushes and came out panting and slobbering, and the smell in the air was so strong that my heart just sank. Luckily, the spray wasn't a direct one, so I could still stand near him for longer than five seconds at a time, but he still needed some serious clean up before he could go back inside.
I've lived in New England long enough to know the classic tomato juice remedy, but we don't necessarily keep vats of the stuff on hand (well, we didn't until now), so Jeremy got the job of sitting outside on the porch with Q while I ran off and bought two giant bottles.
It was 9:30 at night, so I was basically the only one in the grocery store, buying nothing but two industrial size bottles of tomato juice, and the teenaged cashier clearly thought I was imbalanced. She tried to be nice and said she had never tried tomato juice and wondered if it tasted good.
My reply: "I don't know if it does. My dog got sprayed by a skunk."
Now, maybe it was the way I phrased it, or maybe she had never heard of the tomato juice remedy, but my cashier clearly did not draw the connection between the juice and the skunk. She apparently thought I was just sort of throwing random facts out to her, like, "I need to vacuum my house. I like cupcakes." She got a look on her face like she was trying to avoid making any sudden movements around me and finished up the transaction as quickly as possible. No matter. I had bigger things to deal with.
Everything I looked up online suggested washing the dog first to try to get most of the spray's oil off of him. Out came our dog shampoo, which has a delightful green apple scent. Most of the spray had landed on his face, so there I was standing outside at 10 o'clock at night, Quincy clenched between my legs as I sprayed him in the face with the hose and scrubbed green apple shampoo into his fur, only to have it all repeatedly shaken back into my own face.
Next came the tomato juice, and I wish I had a photo of the first moment we poured tomato juice over Q's head, because I believe his expression would be one of glorious rapture. It was like Christmas in August for this dog , because suddenly his head was a self-serve fountain of delicious liquid that he just couldn't consume quickly enough. I poured the juice and Q just stood licking his face, my hands, and the rapidly growing tomato-flavored puddle on the pavement, no doubt wondering what he had done to deserve this kind of reward. Of course, when the hose came out again, he quickly changed his tune and again began the shaking and struggling.
So here we are, the morning after, and I keep grabbing Q to smell his face and see if we actually solved the skunk problem. Let me tell you, the combination of skunk spray, tomato, wet dog, and green apple shampoo is altogether unique; the first thing that hits is the green apple, which really is surprisingly nice, but then all the other smells just come barreling in and kick green apple right out the door, and you're left sort of simultaneously sneezing and gagging.
The other side effect for poor Q is that his new scent seems to have made him some type of pariah in the dog world. He has not always been the most socially appropriate dog on the block, and now that he smells funny, well, we all know what happens to that kid.