I’m Fixing to Be Back

I’m fixing to be back.

That’s what the note written on my prize front lawn said, the one left by that armadillo who is devouring it. He wrote, “I’m fixing to be back,” by lining up the little holes he digs in my yard during the wee hours.

I’ve been staying up real late lately in the hope I would meet him. I was very desirous of introducing him to a friend of mine—Mister hollow-point high velocity 22 caliber trajectory.

My buddy has been dealing with them, too. But his wife doesn’t like for him to shoot them, so he traps them, and in that way he is more humane than I am when it comes to ridding yourself of the nasty little cowards who destroy your property in the dark of the night, and then go hide in a hole during the daylight.

I admired that humane quality, even if it was for the benefit of an armadillo. But I admired it even more when I discovered how he actually disposed of them after he trapped them.

One day after he had snared one, he called me delirious with joy. He was joyful because he shares my deep distaste for the varmints. But the reason he really called me was to get me to help him dispose of it.

I jumped at the opportunity. Anybody who ever wants me to help them dispose of an armadillo, I am at their pleasure.
Remember how I told you my buddy respected his wife’s wishes by not shooting it? Well I gained a new respect for him myself when he told me what we were going to do.

We went down to the bridge over the Ocmulgee River, and parked at the Sac ‘O Suds. Then we walked out on the bridge on the south side of the river with the cage holding the recently captured armadillo.
When we got out over the water, we opened the cage and dumped him over the side of the bridge. Mike said it was the humane thing to do. That they liked water, and could swim underwater for up to five minutes if they needed to. He said they were survivors, like cockroaches, just bigger and more sly.

Unfortunately for that armadillo, it was a long way down, and the river was a little bit low and there were some very large rocks exposed just beneath us, one of which he landed on, and he didn’t land on his feet.

When we got back up to the Sac ‘O Suds, we congratulated each other on our humanness. What we had done was help feed a lot of orphaned and homeless turtles who congregate at that spot in the river. They were probably tired of eating fish, and appreciated a little possum-on-the-half-shell.

Armadillos are like rocks in the ground, when you dig up one, two more appear.

And unfortunately for me, I know that when you get rid of one, sooner or later, another one shows up.
But I’m ready for the next one. I have another new friend I’m fixing to introduce him to.