I’ve been thinking for awhile that my blog is too eclectic. To really build a fan base, I need to settle on a topic. However, the problem is that it seems wild animals would be the topic, and I DON”T want to endorse that plan. Yet, here we are with another animal post.
The latest animal came indoors…isn’t that just precious. ::note sarcasm::
I was sitting on my couch, procrastinating and getting ready to coax myself into grading essays. Then, something plopped onto the floor of the dining room. I stared at it for a minute trying to figure out what dog toy could have been on the steps that would have spontaneously slid into the middle of the floor. Deogi was on the couch next to me, so I knew he, for once, couldn’t be the author of this mayhem. Then, the mystery object started moving. It was brown, so I thought it was maybe a mouse.
I had mice a couple of years ago. Since that debacle disintegrated with me standing on the couch screaming at the dog to get away from the mouse, my first reaction was to reach over and grab the dog’s collar before he could react. Then, the brown blob on the floor started to move around in an awkward, flat, shuffle. I watched in horror, wondering if it was a mutant mouse (really, read my other posts. Mutant mice wouldn’t be too much of a surprise here). And, that’s when the mouse grew wings and flew across the living room.
It was a bat.
Yes, a bat.
I HATE bats.
Seriously, hate them with every fiber of my being, and I do realize that hate is a strong word.
The last time I thought I saw a bat, it was in the basement. I think for the next month I walked hunched over and stared up at the ceiling the entire time I had to do laundry. Clearly, the bat and I were not going to be able to share living quarters. at. all. Not even for a night.
I pulled the dog off the couch and ran upstairs to the bedroom.
I tried to call my parents — no answer.
I tried to call my sister — no answer.
I finally called a friend and asked her to look up emergency exterminators.
Somewhere along the way, I also had a melt down. I’ve already had a rough day, so this pushed me over the edge, and I just started crying. Normally, Deogi is very comforting in these moments, but he was all wound up tonight and tried to start to play tug of war with the bedding and jump all over me. So, there I was crying and trying to stop the dog from destroying the bedroom. I also realized that bats can fit into small cracks, so I stuffed my bathrobe under the door to seal off the room. A fluff of dog hair floated off the floor when I threw the bathrobe down, and I almost lost my mind because for a split second I thought it was the bat.
My faithful friend kept texting me exterminator numbers, and I kept calling them. No answer… left a message… got a wrong number… talked to one that doesn’t handle bats. Finally, I got in touch with a company that takes care of bats. I think it wound up being the same one that came to remove the dead possum from under my deck in the summer when the stench of it was overwhelming the neighborhood.
Come to think of it, I probably should put that number in my phone.
I first talked to a receptionist at a centralized location. She was super nice and empathetic although in my fragile emotional state when she told me “Have a great night” at the end of our conversation, I did almost scream, “I have a bat flying through my living room!” That would have been uncalled for though. It wasn’t her fault, and I’m sure she tells everyone to have a great night.
Then, I was passed to the district manager who tried to troubleshoot why there was a bat in the house. I could hear him scratching his head over the phone as he said, “Usually this is only a problem in the spring and summer. It should be too cold for bats now.” This made me eye the bath robe to make sure it was doing its job because with my luck, the bat was probably rabid too, thus explaining his untimely appearance and random flopping on the floor.
Then, I was finally passed to a technician, who was also very friendly. Although, in theory if I were not terrified of wild animals and someone wanted to pay me top dollar to come capture creatures after hours, I might be coaxed into being very friendly to people as well.
Fortunately, I had already cried and freaked out before the technician got here, so when he knocked on the door I was sufficiently calmed and had abandoned my plan of racing down the stairs, flinging open the front door, bowling him over, and standing on the porch sobbing incoherently while he found the bat….although, he might have given me a price break in that case.
Instead, I let him in and said, “Sorry the place is not very tidy; I would have straightened it up if it weren’t for the bat in here.” He came in and poked around in the bathroom and kitchen while I stood in the dining room keeping a wary eye on the living room curtain and imagining that I was seeing movement in them. Then, he turned around and said, “Oh, there he is.”
So, he walked up and threw his net over the bat. After which, the bat emitted horrifying squeaks and sonar clicks that will probably haunt my sleep. Then, the guy asked, “Ma’am, do you have a grocery bag.” What? He was standing in front of the basement door, and the grocery bags hang on the other side of it. Plus, I thought, “Aren’t you a professional? Didn’t you think about the need for a bag before you caught the bat?”
Maybe he was just worried that if he tried to come through the living room and dining room with the bat in a net, I would climb the walls. Fortunately, since I hadn’t been able to tidy up, a bag holding some supplies for my super secret sewing project was on the dining room table. I gave him that, and he unceremoniously put the whole net, bat and all into the bag.
I had already retreated back to my corner of the dining room by the time he brought the bag, bat, and net around the corner. And, then, I knew, expensive or not, that the world needs emergency exterminators. I would have never even made it that close to the bat, but if by some strange superhero strength I had caught the bat, seeing the bat flapping around in the bag making those horrific shrieks and clicks would have created a need for me to be wearing adult-sized diapers.
So, now the bat is gone, it’s almost 10:30 at night, and I think even though I’m going to kick myself later, I’m giving up on my grading goal for the evening. I’m just going to pick up that secret sewing project and indulge my frazzled self in a little sewing therapy.