So, I never thought I’d say this, but… I’ve got an armadillo problem. Yep, not raccoons, not possums. A full-on, armor-plated, dig-happy, cartoon-looking armadillo.
Let me back up. I just bought a house in Cape Coral, out in the Gator Circle area. I love it—peaceful, quiet, tons of nature. But as a first-time homeowner, I didn’t realize how much I’d care about grass. I mean, I always used to pay someone to mow it and didn’t think twice. But now? I’m out there every morning like, “Does it look green enough? Am I the lawn guy now?”
That’s when I started noticing holes popping up in my yard. Naturally, I blamed my dog Bruno. He’s got a ton of energy and thinks he owns the backyard. Every time I found a new hole, I’d shake my head and say, “Bruno! Come on, man, you’re making us look bad! We’re dead last on the neighborhood lawn leaderboard!”…