By Janet Stoica

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It was a beautiful morning in July as I sat reading peacefully in my living room. Suddenly my two tuxedo cats were racing back and forth from corner to corner in my kitchen with their eyes focused on the ceiling area. I briefly saw a black fluttering bird hovering near the ceiling. It flew quickly around the room. I thought Oh, the poor bird!  How did it get into my house? I’ll have to hurry and open a window for it to fly out. As I ran to the kitchen to see how to rescue the innocent creature, I suddenly saw that it was definitely not a bird and besides it wasn’t making any bird noises. I was now dealing with a bat. My 3-three-day nightmare had just begun.

I did not scream out, I did not think to get a broom or other long-handled device to swat it down, and I certainly did not call for help……yet.  I did, however, cover my head so the black & sinister thing wouldn’t land on my head and tangle up into my hair (a common fallacy that is not true but I guess I was having one of those duck & cover reactions).  It was every woman and cat for itself!  It flew everywhere and finally into my bathroom where I saw it land on my freshly-washed window curtains. Quickly, I slammed the door and then started hyper-ventilating.

What should I do? Who should I call? Where did it come from? What the……

I called the local police station, where the animal control officer is based, and learned that she was unavailable at the time. She would be notified of my dilemma and, hopefully, would contact me as quickly as possible. She phoned soon after and stated that she would arrive within the hour. After her entry into my bathroom closing the door behind her to search for the creature as it was nowhere to be seen, she exited and advised me that she could not find the vermin and left. I was advised to have my cats vaccinated for potential rabies. It was then that I phoned my former handyman, Danny, who visited with a high-powered flashlight, towels (for capturing the animal), and sturdy gloves. He went into the forbidden zone and, of course, clicked the door shut behind him. I sat in the kitchen and prayed for his hunting success. I could hear the toilet tank cover being clunked down, my linen cabinet door shutting closed, and my shower doors bumping shut. I mean, let’s face it, all I needed was some deep sinister organ music like Bach’s Toccata & Fugue in D minor (think Dracula movies of old) to add to the drama. My heart raced and terror filled my brain. Surely, Danny would find the crazy little creature. Danny soon opened the bathroom door and pronounced that he had looked everywhere possible and found absolutely nothing. He thought that maybe the pointy flying object had squeezed itself under the baseboard heating pipes and was now resting comfortably under the bathroom floor.  I was devastated that he hadn’t found the creature.

About 6:00 p.m., a pest-control friend arrived after his workday was over. If anyone could locate this terrifying creature, it most definitely would be him. He entered the room and also exited after 10 minutes of futile searching. Zip, nada, nope, negatori, zilch. He thought batman had gone between the walls where there was a small opening. He advised me to continue to keep the door closed and to look for bat droppings on the floor the next morning. Oh great, just what I needed. Cleaning up Mr. Bat’s poop sounded disgusting. I stuffed a towel under the door, fed my two kit-cats, and then proceeded to look up bat information on the internet. I learned that bats don’t aim for your head, that it was probably more scared of me than I was of it, and that I should pray that it doesn’t have rabies. Also, since the animal control lady advised me that my two felines needed rabies shots, I knew I had to call the local vet. After phoning three area veterinarians who had no appointments available, I was off to Shrewsbury to the 24/7 vet emergency group on Route 9. An excellent facility with excellent staff that accommodated me quickly where I was in and out in one hour after spending $500. My brother and sister duo, Mikey and Maria, were very quiet in their crates as I drove home. Maria had serenaded me the entire trip to Shrewsbury but now she was eerily quiet adding to my worries. (Today, both felines are in their usual great states.) 

That night, about 8 p.m., Mr. Bat decided to cause another ruckus. I was watching TV and out of the corner of my eye I saw him fly. This time he used his flying prowess and sonar to navigate the living room. I jumped out of my chair and opened the door to the front hall and then the door to the outside. I hoped with every fiber of my being that he would find his way out the front door. After 15 minutes of holding the outside door wide, I decided that my visitor must’ve flown the, er, coop. I closed and locked the doors and wished that he was gonzo forever. After much memory-jogging, I finally determined that the bat had gotten in when a window screen had tilted open on my sun porch and had been wide open all night. Then, when I opened my back door to go out, it must’ve flown into my home.

The next day I avoided the hallway like the plague. Never went near the doors. The next morning, however, as I grew braver, I opened the hall door and walked slowly into the hall. What was that?!? A little black lump on the rug. Was that the scary creature who had brought me so much grief?  Well, yes it was. It was belly up. I slammed the door and quickly ran for my Tupperware and placed it over the poor thing. Of course, because I was still creeped out, I also placed a gallon paint can over the Tupperware just to be safe. Then I made a quick phone call to the animal control officer. The bat was picked up and was to be sent to the State lab for rabies testing. Four days later, the animal control officer phoned me to advise that the bat tested negative for rabies. What a great relief as I had prayed that it would be a negative result so I would not have to suffer the consequences of getting my own rabies shot. Shiver me timbers! What a horrifying experience!