Bats

Last night as we were watching our new favorite show, "Swamp People" (if you haven't seen it yet, do it quickly. It's captivating.) A winged devil flew into the living room. I immediately cowered on the couch, pulling a throw blanket over my head, while Art just sat on the couch. He said he was watching the bat to see where he was flying, but I think he was afraid. When he could find no sign of the bat (although he didn't look too hard) we started watching our show again, only to be interrupted by a swooping and diving rodent. I assumed my position under the blanket and Art resumed his weak searching. Again nothing. So, again, we continued watching our show only to be interrupted (again) by the bat. I returned to my safe-haven under the throw blanket while Art used another throw blanket to usher the bat outside. All was well.

How did the bat get in, you ask? The same way they always get in the house- the attic door. Every year Art deems it a good idea to leave the attic door open to allow the heat to rise out of the house and every year I tell him that bats will get in the house. Surprise, surprise, every year we have bats. Considering that I am useless around diving bats (sonar or no) and that Art screams like a little girl each and every time he tries to shoo them out the door, one would think that he would learn not to leave the attic door open. Apparently he forgets.

If you're curious as to what Buddy's reaction was to all this, it was nothing. He layed on the floor in the living room, all the while I was under my blanket, Art was screaming and a bat was diving to and fro. Buddy was either completely oblivious to what was happening around him or else he just didn't care. I'm going with the latter.

Amazingly enough, Art did not open the attic door today.