Mornings for the past few weeks have brought with them a consistent frustration. In the battleground that has become my front yard, a relentless hole-digging monster works diligently under the cover of darkness to make me look foolish. The thing happens to be well on its way to China, and to my dismay, shoveling the dirt back into place only proves to further motivate the beast.
Adding to my annoyance was the fact that my 65-pound guard dog, Lucy, was not doing her job. All I could get out of her was a morning examination and passing sniff of the damage incurred. You could tell she felt inadequate, though, as the cat was being routinely pummeled on her way back into the house.
Whatever it lacked in attitude was surely compensated by the fact that it was armor-plated. A few days ago, the wife and I were having a lame night in (as married people tend to do) when Lucy, right on schedule, announced her need to pee from the door mat. Our process seemed rather typical until a beast emerged from the shadows just off the main walkway. Lucy diverted and set off to chase what I now saw was an armadillo… and that joker had some wheels. I have always fancied my mutt a strong runner, but her prey zigged and zagged like a champ on its way toward our cars.
Momentarily, I considered participating in the melee. Not being a gun owner or wanting to stab the thing with a Swiss Army knife, however, my options were limited. Additionally, never having confronted a live armadillo, I really had no idea what to expect. Did it have a mean face like an opossum? What kind of teeth was this thing packing? How high could it jump? All pertinent questions for someone approaching the carport without shoes or pants.
Rather smartly, our adversary had chosen to hide under the Honda. It was either a fortuitous guesser or actually knew that it was our one vehicle that the dog cannot squeeze under. All that remained in sight was a scaly rear-end and a reinforced foot-long tail. Call me a sissy, but this thing looked rather menacing from my perspective. Whatever it lacked in attitude was surely compensated by the fact that it was armor-plated.
With Lucy trying every side of the car except the correct one, I finally opted to take charge of the situation. The solution was quite obvious. "What is the number one killer of armadillos?" I asked aloud to a silent neighborhood. That's when I reached for my keys…
