page 5 I Had A Bat....!! soooo it's Thursday night and I usually tune in a show called Samurai Champloo. I'm a bit of a nut for Japanese stuff: not so much straight Animé, but this is a series set in 16th century Japan (more or less) and guys run around with swords, women mince around in kimonos looking gorgeous. Pretty cool. I have the lights low and the catwolf (that's my 9 pound toy eskimo dog, Scoots) and I are settled in watching the show -- when all of a sudden I notice out of the corner of my eye a swooping something about 3 feet down from the 12 foot ceiling. I'm thinking... "Wow -- the moths are humongous this year." sooooo I take a few seconds to focus on what and where it is, exactly -- which is when it decides to get an equally good look at me. Such as a bat can, it being not so much a visually acute critter as hearing acute: their locution is sonar based, I believe. frankly, I'm stunned my shriek didn't explode it's poor head. sooooo in times of stress and horror, do I rally my wits and gamely do battle with small winged rodents my own self? hell no. That's what MEN are for! honestly I completely freaked and whimped out. Lou Costello facing Frankenstein's monster comes to mind. "B-ba-bah-bah-BAT!!! Robert! ROBERT!! There's a bat in the HOUSE!!" Clearly in my mind at the time the division of household duties puts live wild animal wrangling soley in my husband's jurisdiction. The dog and I are hiding under the loosely knit lap robe I have near at hand, and it occurs to me that SHOULD the bat fly into it he will assuredly become tangled in the loose knit, so we jettison that and instead hide behind a ten inch throw pillow. My hand to God, a ten inch throw pillow. because you know, I am only 8 inches tall.   meanwhile, THE Man has arrived on the scene, roused from deep slumber but remarkably awake. I'm pretty sure my cat-like yowling flushed adrenaline through his system: and golly, that's sort of nice to know after 17 years of marriage. A man of action, he asks no questions; throws all the lights on and the bat heads off to the kitchen, The Man in grim pursuit. It is over in a matter of whumps and thuds. See? Nothing to it. from horizontal slumber to precision killing machine in 3 minutes.  And he didn't even have to be told to dispose of the remains. I went into the kitchen to view the carnage and there wasn't much: about the size of mouse, wings tight to the body. neck probably broken.  No I didn't perform it's autopsy on the butcher block and I had mixed feelings about the possibility it might just have been stunned. I have no idea how it might have gotten into the house.  I have no idea if there might be more somewhere in the house.  I feel excessively stupid for my lack of inaction and total reliance on my husband to handle the situation. And of course, I was all over Robert with gratitude for being a big strong manly man in his cowboy pyjama bottoms, vintage Rhino Records yellow tshirt; barefoot and broom wielding agent of death to flying mammals, Boo-Ya!  Yeah, primitive -- but there's something comforting in knowing there's a killer around when you need one. If I'd had to handle it on my own I'd still be trying to herd the thing out the door.  Waving a pillow at it. and yowling. Just thought I'd share.  Please Continue or Click Book To Return To The Library