Rescued from Roadkill

There I was, minding my own business, when Mama spotted what she apparently considered gourmet roadside cuisine and wandered off.

She didn’t even look back.

One minute I had a family. The next, I was standing in the middle of Highway 287 wondering if I was about to become a hood ornament.

Then I heard it.

A low rumble, growing louder every second.

Around the bend came a big black SUV pulling what looked like an oversized albino armadillo.

I remember thinking, Well… that’s odd.

The big black thing suddenly stopped, and a rather large human climbed out. Before I knew what was happening, he scooped me up, looked me over, and said:

“You’re coming with us.”

Apparently, I had just been adopted.

Then came the important matter of my name.

“We shall call you Arnold.”

Arnold? Really?

Was every other famous armadillo name already taken?

Maybe they were thinking of Arnold’s Diner from Happy Days. I suppose it could’ve been worse.

At the time, I had no idea where that big black truck—or that strange white armadillo behind it—was taking me.

I only knew I wasn’t roadkill.

And that seemed like a pretty good start.

Little did I know, I was about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime.

So come along with me, my two humans, my Labrador brother, and one very unusual white Casita as we travel across the Southwest.

I’m Arnold.

And this is how it all began.

🧭 Where to Next?

The humans insist there’s more to see…