Batman Rescue, Or What To Do With A Bat In The House

 

 

Picture yourself and your date out on a most enjoyable night with an invitation to a home cooked dinner.

 

The home in this case was a wonderful castle abode with a hillside view and an acre of manicured garden in the down sloping backyard.

 

It had a feeling of Xanadu from Citizen Kane on a livable scale.

 

The people were friends of my date, (aka wife.) We prepped for the evening by reminding each other we’re good listeners.

 

It was one of those tricky conversations with a hidden message, but I figured it out: Don’t run my mouth, talk over everyone, and demand all the attention. Not that that ever happens.

 

The night felt perfect, until …

 

Early on I told the host not to waste any good wine on me, that I’d had a glass of Rothchild’s Bordeaux in 1975 and could still taste its elegance. Was it a challenge? I didn’t think so, but he met it head on.

 

Now I have a raised bar on wine. One bottle did two things: 1. It poured well out of the bottle. 2. It drank well out of the decanter after some shaking, not stirred.

 

A duo on guitars provided dinner music. Pitch perfect.

 

The flow of the evening felt like melted chocolate, every moment a chance to relax in finery.

 

I knew my role. Support the team. It’s the best role ever invented whether the team is friends, family, or a dinner party at the grown ups table.

 

The new puppy dog was fun, a herding critter I tried to herd around without it biting me, which is always a consideration with dogs that don’t know me. The dogs that do know me usually angle in for a chomp when things go too far.

 

Toward the end of the evening we all felt the glow of good food, wine, and music. It was a special night I didn’t expect from the beginning.

 

And then:

 

“There’s a bat in the living room.”

 

What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear those special words?

 

“Huh?”

 

“I’ve got a dog dumping on the rugs, and now a bat?”

 

If I’d seen the bat signal on the moon the message couldn’t have been more clear. It was a call for a real Batman, time for a batman rescue.

 

Naturally I volunteered for batman rescue, then made a plan. Always make a plan for batman rescue.

 

My first plan was not to get bit in the face by this damn bat. The second plan was getting it down from the two story lofted living room.

 

I tapped my inner-MacGyver for direction. Which episode did he chase a bat out of a big house?

 

So I took two paper plates stuck together and frisbeed the bat off it’s high perch. The shadows made it even more exciting. The bat buzzing my head before hiding behind the couch? Duck.

 

I moved the couch and planned on scooping the bat up between the two plates. Isn’t that part of the batman rescue protocol? It is now. Except the bat flew up and started cruising room to room through viewing openings in the second story walls.

 

More buzzing my head, too.

 

Bats fly on radar, right? My next move was using brooms like windshield wipers to create a false radar signal. With two of us waving brooms the bat exited out the open back door.

 

Now you may ask, “Dave how did you gain such power over animals?”

 

 

Before you sign me up for Siegfried and Roy’s show, know I have great respect for animals, which translates to fear. They scare the crap out me. And they know it.

 

What do you do if you’re afraid to do something? Do it afraid, then the next time won’t be so frightening.

 

Batman rescue is a start.