02.21.2003
9:12 a.m.
Damn the bat signal!
I'm now convinced that the cats have some sort of giant bat signal that they're aiming up the chimney to lure bats into the house.
We had bat #3 come into the house last night. BEFORE my husband got home. I was lying on the couch, watching delicious reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, minding my own business, when I suddenly hear bat squeaking coming from downstairs. I immediately sat up, said "No FUCKING way!" and went to the top of the basement stairs to see what was going on. I looked down, and saw both cats staring at the tiny bat that was trapped in the corner of the basement by the stairs. It was flapping madly, and not really getting anywhere. Azrael (the little scaredy cat one) was staying slightly back, while Callie (the big, tough, GREAT HUNTRESS) was right up next to it, probably sniffing at it to scare it just that tiny bit more. (I think she's into torturing things.)
So, I made the PSSSST! noise that usually stops the cats from doing what they're doing. They both looked at me like, "Yeah, RIGHT." I went back into the living room, grabbed my husband's blanket (ha ha!) and went downstairs to throw it over the bat. You know, to hold it there while I called someone to help me. I threw it over the bat, while it squeaked in terror. Callie tried to climb under the blanket to get to it, despite me throwing her into the family room about 7 times. (The fact that there's no DOOR to block off the family room might have had something to do with it.) I tried my parents. No answer, so I left a message on their machine. I tried my husband. (Not like he could help, as he was on an airplane somewhere over Chicago at the time.) Then I thought of my ex, who lives about 5 minutes away. No answer, so I left a message.
Eventually my husband called back, and essentially told me to calm my sorry girlie ass down, shut the cats upstairs, get the bat wrapped up in the blanket, and throw it outside, and then to call him back. So, I shut Callie in the bathroom first, as I didn't think Az had the balls to play with the bat. As it turned out, she was only scared of it when it was making noises. When it was quiet, she got curious. So, I had to throw her upstairs too. I opened the back door, propped open the storm door, and went back downstairs to face the Evil Creature of Destruction and Rabies (aka the 2-inch-long scared-to-death bat). After about 15 minutes of me trying to trap the damn bat in the blanket, and getting pissed off because it kept moving, and only one time of screaming like a girl when I picked up the blanket, thinking I had it, only to have the bat make a break STRAIGHT for my foot!!!, I finally got it in the blanket.
Usually my husband goes outside and shakes the blanket to get the bat out of it. I just threw the bat and blanket and all outside and slammed the door so it wouldn't decide to fly back IN. It got out, and looked like it was making its way away from the house, so I stepped outside, snatched the blanket up, and went back inside to try to get my heartbeat back down to a more reasonable rate.
It was fun and exciting, let me tell you. And OF COURSE, everyone I called to help me called me back AFTER everything was over. My parents were out to dinner. My ex was teaching a late class at the university. All were happy to hear that I had taken care of the bat by myself.
We're getting the chimney fixed AS SOON AS WE POSSIBLY CAN, damn it. I don't want these bats telling all their little bat friends, "Hey! There's this cool house that you can get into, play with the kitties for a while, and then get thrown out of! It's like an amusement park!"
No more bats. I'm serious. I'm putting my foot down.
I'm going to find the cats' damn bat signal, and I'm going to break it.
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A picture of the kitties (Az is on top, Callie is on the bottom):
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