Armadillo Lady

Sometimes the strangest calls remind me there are a lot of kind-hearted, compassionate people in the world.

An animal call pops up on the computer screen in my patrol vehicle. I assume someone is upset about their neighbors barking dog and wonder why people can't relax a little more.

Dispatch keys in and calling radio number. "370, copy animal call."

"Go ahead." I reply with an eye roll.

"Be in route to 3806 Pinion Drive for an injured armadillo."

My mind is flooded with annoyed questions. Did I hear that right? How is this a police call? Armadillos are wildlife, not pets. Don't they carry leprosy? Why is someone concerned about an armadillo? Why do we get sent to these stupid calls?

When I arrive, a sweet Asian lady opens her front door with one hand over her mouth and sadness written all over her eyes. She motions for me to come and escorts me to her backyard.

On the far end of her property line an armadillo is laying on it's side. I notice it's breaths were slow and labored. The shell has a large crack that extends from his...hers...it's...side to the top of it's back. This critter is clearly on it's last leg.

I'm looking down at it as the lady asks what we can do. In my head I'm not thinking about the animal at all, I'm thinking about how to gracefully tell her "This is a wild animal that's gonna die. It can't go to the vet. Best we can do is kill it to put it out of its misery." With the tears welling up in her eyes, I'm certain she cannot handle that direct approach.

For a softer blow to her sweet, tender heart, I go with, "I'm not sure there's much we can do."

All of a sudden her mouth opens wide and she tells me she has an idea. The tears in her eyes sparkle with hope as she runs back inside.

I look back down at the armadillo and shake my head. There's just no way this animal can survive and I'm not a big enough animal lover to feel sad about it.

When she returns I notice she is armed with the largest tube of Neosporin I've ever seen and a paint stirring stick. She demonstrates what she wants to do by simulating putting the ointment on the stick.

"Do you think this will work?"

Ummm...no chance...

"Maybe." I say aloud.

I don't have the heart to tell her this is useless.

She squeezes out the semi-translucent gel onto the thin, flat wood. The ointment covers almost the entire length of the stick. She squats down and begins spreading it over the armadillo's damaged shell. With great care, she applies as much as she can to the injury.

It's still alive, but never moves or makes any attempt to get away. She's not looking at me, so I shake my head left to right.

Next she wants to carry it over to the creek across the street to release it back into the wild. After finding a good sized box in the garage she uses the paint stick to pull while using the box to scoop, until the lethargic animal is ready for transport.

Realizing my detached mindset has essentially resulted in me watching her do everything, I take the box as a courtesy and carry it while she walks with me to the creek bed where I tilt the cardboard slowly and let the armadillo slide out onto the grass.

She asks me if I think it will make it while nodding her head up and down in a hopeful "please say yes" manner.

"Hopefully!" I say with an intentional effort to make sure I smile with my eyes to be more believable.

She thanks me as I climb back into my car. While driving away I shake my head thinking how stupid that was and how it will likely be a coyote's dinner in a couple hours.

My initially jaded thoughts are followed by a recognition of this woman's compassion. She will go through the rest of her day proud, knowing she did her best to make a difference. The sincerity and authenticity of her actions should be praised, not ridiculed.

In a job where I see most people on their worst day and respond to call after call to deal with negativity, this sweet lady did more than try to save a dying animal.

She reminded me that there are still kind people who want to do good in this world.