Houseguest

I try to keep my habits very regular. I get up at the same time every day, and I like to get through my morning routines fast and efficiently so I can get to work with as little delay as possible. Yesterday morning, I got up, fed the cats, went into the laundry room and got my bath towel (it won’t dry in the bathroom), took a shower, went back into the laundry room to hang the towel back up, and only then did I see…

My late friend Anne once lived in a 14th floor apartment that she nicknamed “The Belfry,” and two basement apartments fittingly called “The Bat Cave,” but she never had one of these.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do about him. He seemed very cozy snoozing up there. He didn’t budge or flap when I took down the towel, hung up the towel, turned the light on and off, opened the outside door, etc. I knew he was alive, because he moved a bit, but he seemed, if you’ll pardon the expression, dead to the world.

I might have done something sooner if I hadn’t been feeling like shit boiled over yesterday–I’m not sure what it was, but I suspect I was fighting off a particularly virulent virus. I won; I’m much better today. But yesterday, along with feeling like roadkill in general, I had UTI symptoms that made me so uncomfortable, I read the newspaper standing up, and spent the day drinking quarts of water and apple cider vinegar and taking acetaminophen. I got work done, but not the things I hoped to get done, and I finished reading a book I want to review because I finally just had to lie down on the sofa for a while. That’s something I do very, very rarely.

So, as long as the bat was kind enough not to get frisky, I was happy not to have to deal with him. But he couldn’t stay on the clothesline–I use it! And if he started moving around and the cats realized he was there, he was toast. Vincent can jump straight into the air and snag things between his paws. Besides…he was so gosh-durned CUTE!! I love going out right at dusk and watching the bats flit around over my roof, and I figured they roosted in the house somewhere (gods know, everything else does!). But I’d never seen one inside before. It was a treat to see a live bat so close up.

Still, I knew I had to be very careful about handling him, both for humane reasons (so tiny, so fragile!) and health concerns–the whole rabies thing, you know, which is another reason not to let the cats get him. I wasn’t sure if he was going to move at all. I know it must be close to the time when the bats den up for the winter. He didn’t move after sunset, because of all the lights on inside the house, and I just didn’t want to bother with him, even though I was starting to feel a bit better.

I got to bed at around 3:00 a.m. with Giles all settled next to me. A few minutes after I turned out the light, I realized Giles was gone–which means he’d heard something interesting going on elsewhere in the house–and I heard a resounding crash in the living room. That could only mean one thing: the bat, as soon as all the lights were off, was flying around, and the cats were going berserk.

I got up, turned lights back on, and checked the situation. The cats were agitated. The bat was back on the clothesline, but in a different spot. I figured I better take care of him now while it was night outside. I put on heavy gardening gloves (not that I intended to touch him if I could help it) and got a large plastic container with a lid. The bat was amazingly cooperative. He knew I was there (his ears were moving this way and that) but he didn’t try to flee. He dropped right into the container when I put it under him and the lid over him. I checked that he didn’t appear sick or injured. Most bats can’t launch into flight from the ground. I opened the door, held the container sideways and gave it a gentle toss. The bat flew off–I clearly saw him wheeling and flitting over the driveway. That was very cool to watch.

Damn, but I’d love to be a wildlife rehabilitator! Really. I think the cats would love me to be one, too. 🙂