Well, Miss Music may be MissAmerica to me, but she was a huge black dog and terrorist to the armadillo, and it shot back and forth under the fence between the garden and the front yard, and when she'd run through the gate to get him, he'd dart back into the garden. This went on for a little while, until I called Miss Music, when he made a beeline for the porch. It was early morning, and no, he was too terrified to bark. She dutifully followed her mommie back into the house, but not without casting wishful glances to the porch, where she wanted to play with that odd creature that was smaller than herself, but somehow, mesmerizing, considering the spectre the tall grass took on when he ran through it.