Running, running, running away from the armadillo removal guys. My leathery-looking pointed ears picked up the sound of two men stomping around, the metal cage rattling its parts and thumping up against the men’s legs. They set it down, intent on armadillo removal, but it is not to be. I may look like a dinosaur descendant. I may spend my days digging and grubbing around in the dirt intent on finding food. But, I am not that stupid. The men set up their cage and toss dirt on the bottom of it to make me think I could dig my way out of it or dig down to find some juicy grubs. But, I’m up and running. They’re surprised at how fast I can move.
Rocks, pebbles and sand rush by as my tiny short legs move deceptively fast. Every now and then, I hide behind a small bush, certain of its ability to hide my presence. Then, I’m up and off and running again. Darting this way, jumping straight up in the air, throwing myself that way at high speed. The armadillo removal guys will never catch me, never.
As I run, my small brain considers why these two men would be after me. I have done nothing wrong. I only take care of my needs. Food, shelter. That’s it. Yes, I have to dig, dig, dig for it all. That’s why I’m blessed with these fabulous shovels I call paws. Sometimes I have to pull back the green grass to get at the yummy bugs just under the surface. I dig, dig, dig until the bugs go scattering around in the daylight and then I snap them up. Sometimes, I like to lie down in a cool spot, so I dig, dig, dig until I make a shallow depression just perfect for my armored body.
So, I suppose the reason I’m dealing with the threat of armadillo removal is someone doesn’t like me digging. I can’t help it. It’s what I do. And, now, running is what I do.
I haven’t quite reached safety. These small bushes don’t hide me for long, and I’m off and scrambling here and there, intent on freedom. What I would give for soft, cool ground to dig in, lay down in, and feed in! That armadillo cage won’t trap me!
Night is coming on, and soon they won’t be able to see me. I’m not even certain they’re trying to chase me. I stop and listen, and don’t hear their movements anymore. I turn and look, but see nothing. Is it possible that I’m safe?
I stop running, and slowly root around for a bit. There, under those wooden stairs. It’ll be cool and it’s a perfect place for bugs to feast upon. My body bumps up against the steps as I amble into the cool safe spot. Something smells delicious just over there, and I swear I can hear grubs moving around. I walk over and start digging and “SNAP!”
Armadillo removal guys win this round.