where’s albert when you need him?
So I’m sitting there.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a moth in the dining room.
A really big one.
I look again.
It’s a BAT.
It joins us in the living room. I jump to turn off the ceiling fan before we have bloody bat all over the walls, but he avoids the blades with his batty-radar-sense.
And the dog?
Okay, that’s an old picture, but you get the idea. She feigns ignorance.
We open the front door, the bat flies into the kitchen.
We open the back door, the bat can’t seem to figure out to fly SIX INCHES LOWER and get out.
Only one thing to do.
I don my bat-fighting gear:
And it’s ON LIKE DONKEY KONG.
Yeah, I couldn’t get a good grip because I’m so friggin’ short. Didja hear it fuss at me? I guess flying mice don’t like being grappled with, because it made the thing mad enough to fly out the back door.
Also, note the good job the dog did–watching. And how Freckles McYoungest cussed so I didn’t have to.
I love teamwork.