About two o’clock in the morning I was typing away at my computer, Rosie, our dog curled at my feet, snoring away. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something flutter in the background. I looked and saw nothing. I continued to type.
A few minutes later I heard Rosie’s I.D. tags jingle. Something had woken my semi-comatose hound. Only two things do that: the promise of food or fun. I looked down to see her brown ears perked up, her nose wiggling about 90 miles an hour while she tried to discern if whatever woke her was worth actual movement.
That’s when I saw it. My old nemesis. The brown bat.
You see, we’d been here before. Only it was trapped in the laundry room during the first go round. Now it was in my dining room, swooping around like freaking Rodan.
Rosie, remembering that I didn’t let her eat the little brown flying rat the last time, rested her head on her paws to continue her snooze.
Until I busted out my best defense against the pterodactyl in the dining room, that is.
I hit the dirt and started screaming like a little girl, crawling to the doors and flinging them open, in hopes that Rodan would make a swift exit outside where he belonged. Swear words flowed freely from my mouth as I gave myself carpet burn, unable to get any closer to the ground despite my best efforts. Rosie jumped up and joined in on the fun, hopping around like a rabbit, barking at the furry brown fun making her mom completely lose her shit.
That’s when the boys came running out of their bedrooms.
“Mom!” Tony said, “what is wrong?”
“Mom!” Jimmy said, “why are you scream….”
Then Rodan dive bombed my baby!
Tony ran for his room slamming the door. Jimmy ran for his room and slammed the door, also.
I looked around, feeling like my eyes were going to pop out of my head, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure the neighbors could hear.
That’s when Jimmy came down and said, “Mom, it’s trapped in my room.”
After I got him some blankets to sleep on the couch with, I called my savior, Jim.
“Jim, it’s back! The bat is back!” I sobbed into the phone.
“You’re kidding me!”
So, quietly I sat, shivering from the overdose of adrenaline pumping through my veins. Jim will get the net. He’ll capture Rodan and we’ll be fine, I thought. I began to worry about bat poop in the house. Was it toxic? What if the dog ate it? What if the kids touched it? How do you find bat poop? What does it look like?
After about thirty minutes of worrying myself into a tizzy, Jim came home. He was wearing his hard hat, uniform, heavy green jacket with a flap protecting his neck, big welding gloves, safety goggles and work boots with steel tarsals. I looked down at myself. I had on a tank top and shorts. I made a mental note to purchase better armor for these occasions.
Up the stairs he went with the giant black net. Two seconds later, he came downstairs with Jimmy’s blanket wadded up in the net. Rodan had flown into Jimmy’s room and knocked himself wonky on the fan. After all this commotion, the damn thing was taking a nap on Jimmy’s comforter.
Jim walked him outside and lay the net and blanket on the deck. A few moments later, the evil thing woke up and flew off to eat bugs and terrorize someone else.
I breathed a sigh of relief and Jim went back to work.
The next morning I hugged my savior.
“You know, I love you, and I have no problem saving you from bats,” he began. “But, next time, we’ll keep this between us, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, confused.
“I got to work and this was hanging on my locker.”
How many women can actually say they were saved by Batman?
I’m one lucky girl.