Dear Kid,
After a extending his stay about 24 hours, the bat has checked out of Casa Mia.
It was a bit on the crazy side.
After a few more rounds of “fling open the front door and see if the bat will randomly fly out of the house” served with a side of Curious Puppy, the bat retreated to the second floor. Dad seemed to think this was a good idea. The Puppy and I weren’t convinced.
Then nothing proceeded to happen.
Then everything happened.
The bat reappeared. In our bedroom. This is not exactly where one wants to see a bat (just in case you weren’t sure).
Dad leapt in to action. I am not exaggerating. Leapt. After a Grand Jete across the room, he opened the window, which made a great deal of sense—except for the screen on the window. The bat dived toward the bed. Dad unhooked the screen. The bat zoomed across the room. Dad almost dropped the screen down two flights onto the bushes. The bat ignored the now open window and instead dropped about 1,000 feet directly toward Dad.
Dad ducked.
The bat saw this as an invitation to dance. It was an invitation the bat did not refuse.
Thus began the Pas de Deux of bat and man.
The bat made elegant use of his wings, swooping and diving, appearing and disappearing with grace and beauty.
Dad made inelegant use of the screen, lunging and flailing around in an attempt to guide the bat to the window.
The bat did not perceive the screen as an Agent of Good. And showed this by resolutely avoid all of Dad’s efforts to herd him.
“He’s getting tired!” When Dad said that, I was pretty sure he was projecting his own condition. When he repeated it, I was sure.
Eventually, the bat settled on the screen (the third time) and Dad guided it out the window.
I have not yet found evidence of bat guano.
Which I’m hoping is a good thing.
(Except that the bat was here a pretty long time…)
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