'Dillas

When I was at the College of Charleston, I took a beginning theater course to satisfy some humanities requirements or some such thing. We paired off towards the end and had to do a short scene that we picked out of a pile the professor brought. One group did a scene of two strangers who met on a cross-country bus trip. I'm guessing it was set somewhere in the southwest because every once in a while, both of them would pop up a little in their seats. Why? Because they were running over 'dillas in the road. 'Dilla, of course, means armadillo. 

But I'm sure you knew that.

Me, I didn't really know anything about armadillos though maybe I'd seen one on TV or in a zoo. It was also the age before smart phones (Gasp! Such an age exists?!) so it's not like I could look it up on my handy dandy phone. You shouldn't be on your phone in class anyways and I always want to snatch it out of people's hands and throw it across the room but I couldn't get away with that unless I was famous. Hollywood! Here I am!

But, I digress. The reason I bring this up is because of a incident on Monday morning. I was walking my dog, as I do every morning (except Saturdays when I'm too lazy and I just open the back door), and we're heading toward the back of my complex when she starts pulling on the leash harder than usual. I vaguely wonder why but this early in the morning it takes all my brain power to hold onto the leash and walk at the same time. I make the left turn and I see a gray lump in the bushes. I feel a (very) mild rush of adrenaline because I think bunnies are totally cute. My sister and I each had one when we were younger and they each died a tragic death. We, the dog and I, get a little closer and I discover that this is the weirdest looking bunny I've ever seen. A little closer still and I see no cute long ears, no poufy tail, just what appears to be and overgrown rat. Then I recognize the shape from the roadkill I frequently see around here: an armadillo. The adrenaline rush becomes less mild because I have no idea what these things can do and I hear they cause leprosy. Plus, possums and raccoons can be very aggressive and an armadillo seems similar to possums and raccoons at 6:15 a.m. 

I pull the dog away and text a real Texan when I get back to the house to get an armadillo update. They aren't aggressive but you shouldn't touch them because they can carry leprosy (due in part to a very low body temperature). I file this info away in my brain and carry on. Tuesday morning, we go for another sleepy walk. The armadillo is back and isn't hiding in the bushes. He's (they all look like boys to me) digging up the grass in the back of the complex. We get real close and I'm sad I don't have a camera or a phone because this is the closest I've ever been to an armadillo! Then Hope sniffs him (probably not a good idea, what with the leprosy potential and all) and he scurries off. Well, kind of waddled off, like a pregnant lady.

This morning I was prepared. I brought my phone in case I saw Dillon (that's right, I named him) again. Alas, he was not there but I could see where he'd been but the ruts in the grass and mulch. Maybe tomorrow!