Dear Kid,
There is a bat in the house. More specifically, there is a bat in our house.
Even more specifically, there is a bat somewhere in our house, but we don’t know where.
He or she has been flying around and then disappearing as soon as we manage to fling the door open. Dad’s doing his imitation of a tarmac worker at the airport (you know, the guys with the lighted flashlight things who guide the planes to the gate).
The bat does not understand the signals.
We don’t know how the bat got into the house or exactly how long he or she has been here.
We checked, and the bat did not make an advanced reservation. I typically do not keep a stock of insects in the house, so a breakfast buffet for the bat is out of the question. I’m pretty sure that will not make the bat happy.
Says Dad, “Who needs a bat house outside when we have a bat in the house?” I’m pretty sure that didn’t make the bat any happier.
I think I shall name the bat Vlad. Or Trixy. It would help if I knew how the bat identified.
The big problem with the bat is that every time we see the Black Shadow of Silence , we jump up and open the front door. This is the universal signal to the Puppy to go On Alert and see who is invading. The compound tragedy is that A) he’s exhausted and would really rather be sleeping than popping up every fifteen minutes and B) there is nothing for him to do when faced with an empty threshold. It’s tough being him.
Stay tuned for batty updates.
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