I spotted this armadillo sort of bumbling along Themis Street the other night. From a distance, I thought it was an opossum, but then I caught up to it and realized it wasn’t. That’s the second one I’ve seen in the last six months. Fearless little things; the first sauntered across my path like I wasn’t even there, and this one sort of walked with me for half a block and then just stood still and let me take its picture, because obviously indulging humans with photo ops is a totally normal thing for armadillos to be doing at 10:30 p.m.
The Riverfront Times ran a blog about armadillos in Missouri this summer.
I’m kind of delighted. Armadillos look like what you’d get if a dinosaur had puppies. Plus they eat grubs, which obviously makes them heroes in my book.
I had no idea they were so nonchalant about humans, though. Not gonna lie: I kind of wanted to pet this one, but I figured that was probably rude, and I wasn’t entirely sure how it would react. Something tells me Ron would NOT be pleased if he had to rush me to the emergency room because I’d picked a fight with an armadillo.
If we start getting them in our yard, I’m totally gonna sit outside all night with a dish of mealworms and try to make friends, though. Leprosy, schmeprosy. I want to pet a dinosaur puppy.