Speaking of bats...

Shakespeare's Sister had this post up about bats, and if you read the comments, you will read a fond reminiscence of my childhood, when my sister and I would stand outside at dusk, standing still while the bats flew around us. We thought it was very cool.

Interestingly enough, as I was sitting here playing freecell on the computer (because I have insomnia), out of the corner of my eye, I saw something flittering around, and I looked up and there was a bat flying around my kitchen! Would it surprise you to know that I did not say "cool!"? No, I believe I shrieked a very high pitched scream and then let out a stream of expletives. Bats outside = cool. Bats in my house = fucking hellshit, not cool!

I will either attempt a capture and release, or I will run up the stairs and close all the doors behind me. The cons to my second plan include waking up to find the bat was captured by one of our cats, who will most definitely not attempt a release, unless I mean release as in "release the bats organs from within the confines of its skin."

Off to look up the incidence of rabies in CT bats.

Phew, I'm feeling less anxious now.

UPDATE: Not for those who don't know want to know what happens on Wild Kingdom when predator meets prey.

First, I opened all the doors on the main floor, to provide ample exit opportunities for our nocturnal visitor. Then picture this, if you will: your intrepid blogger, dressed in cotton pajama pants featuring a purple hibiscus print on a fuschia background and a non matching blue t-shirt, a pair of black boots, wearing a grey knit hat with earflaps, wielding a large stainless steel bowl in one oven mitt clad hand and a large frying pan in the other oven mitt clad hand, as she approaches the the swooping mammal with all the enthusiasm of a Young Republican headed to the recruiting office.

For what seemed an interminable amount of time, I attempted to herd the bat towards one of the exits. Then Casmir, our older cat, came hopping down the stairs, and before I could stop him, he jumped up and caught the bat in his mouth. He didn't play with it, he just bit down hard, and then acquiesced when I told him to drop the poor creature. I scooped up the bat and took him way out back, to the point where our backyard meets the backyards of 3 of our neighbors - a small no-man's land that no one rakes or trims or fertilizes, we just leave it as a boundary between our yards. And there I unceremoniously dumped the poor bugger, because between the bat and the dark and spiderwebs I walked through to get through the yard, I was seriously freaked out already.

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