Chapter 20 A Milestone, Critter update, A bone to pick

I am now roughly halfway to the Gulf.  So far I have broken and replaced 4 spokes and had to replace a rear tire as well as both of the tires on Murphy's trailer.  No flats just worn out. Mechanically the old Schwinn is holding up despite the tremendous load it carries.  My steady southward progress is starting to show.  Yesterday, I spotted some banana trees growing in backyards. I don't think they were fake. This explains why I am plagued by hot weather as I am clearly moving faster than the chill of autumn. Another sign is that the daily roadkill mix is changing. I saw my first flattened possum a couple hundred miles north as I entered  more possum friendly climate and habitat.  They were neck and neck with raccoons for a long time, but now they are clearly the king of roadkill. In one of my earlier posts I listed frogs as the no. 2 roadkill and they still are but I have a new theory as to their demise.  Most are not squished but merely expired. What seems to happen is they decide to cross the road (I do not know the answer to that) and traversing a broad expanse of hot radiating asphalt with their delicate skin simply does them in. Perhaps it is the siren call of girl frogs croaking from the opposite ditch.
 However, possums reign may be short-lived.  Just yesterday south of St. Louis I passed my first flattened armadillo. They are not common this far north but I learned they are heading north as all invasive pests seem to do.  These curious creatures are not equipped for really cold weather (being hairless) so we don't need to worry in Minnesota.  They eat grubs and insects and have a habit of digging lots of little holes in your yard looking for them.  This does not endear them to lawn nazis or golf courses so a battles rages here to control them.

Does this dog look bored?

I have related in an earlier post how Murphy's most excellent adventure is being lauded by most everyone and given a thumbs up as I pass.  Well, not quite everyone.  One morning at a convenience store Murphy is waiting outside for me while I pick up a snack.  When I emerge I am cornered by a young woman hands on hips who asks "Is that your dog?"  Usually that question depending on the tone of voice can go either way.  Yes he is. "Well I have a bone to pick with you!"  It seems I am the engaging in extreme cruelty to subject a poor animal to the dangers and privations such as my journey entails.  "Why would you ever bring a dog with you doing this?"  A fair question,  and I had to admire her pluck as I towered over her.  I explain that she doesn't don't know the whole story. Murphy has done more, met more people, had more adventures and generally had a good time in the past 4 weeks than most dogs get in a lifetime. Most dogs left at home as you propose are alone, bored stiff waiting for their masters while they work or worse, are kenneled or chained.  I assured her we regularly take breaks for him to play fetch. swim to cool off, or just sit in the shade with a bowl of water always provided. In fact. I have learned to always put out a bowl of water for him (more for appearance sake) whether he wants it or not. Given a choice he would choose adventure over boredom.  This rationale seemed to disarm her a bit and she grudgingly acknowledged and drove off slightly less indignant.

Taunted by cruel children.

Never gets petted.