1 thing you don't want to hear pre-coffee

MOOOM there's a bat in here!!

I look at clock. yes.7:39 a.m. sigh--it must be a teenager bat--calmly fold newspaper away

Why are bats soooo much bigger when they are flying? Okay-- so I look in the living room and lo an behold there is indeed a bat doing figure eights. The doggies seeing this flying varmint and immediately lose their minds jumping and barking (see previously posted photos on webpage) trying to catch it. JRTs are jumpin dawgs remember-- so Bree (aka stoopid dog) hit the dining room light when she jumped off the table. That dog is mental. Happily my light did not break. I tell Bat to stay in one room. He doesn't listen. Obviously a "boy" teenager bat. Bree leaps off loveseat and lands on couch. Missing Bat entirely. We (Zoli & I) start corralling him down to just one room by shutting doors as he leaves a room. Peanut is trying to be brave but would really like to run outside. The adrenaline is palpable. The bat is zooming up and down the hallway. Into the kitchen, no the dining room. STOP BAT! Go outside! I grab a beach towel from the random piles of swim gear laying everywhere and start herding the bat toward the kitchen slider (INMHO a very attractive move which allows robe to flop open and involves much flailing and explaining to the bat that all the other teenbats have gone to breakfast ELSEWHERE!) Bree makes a final leap and snatches the Bat midair--an awesome save just by the wing tip-- and pins in to the ground. The Bat starts sending out quite loud chitter chitter noises (to do what?? call the other bats?? bring in squirrel reinforcements?? Is there a rodent rebellion? They want my almonds I am sure of it.) Jarvis-- now quite proud of his honey-- is trying to get in a good sniff at her prize. Zoli also joins the crowd kneeling on the floor in front of the kitchen sink. I toss the towel over the bat (Look out Croc Hunter I am getting my own show) "Can we keep it?? A pet bat! how cool!" "No. No more pets. Put Bree in the crate." Bree, momentarily so proud of herself is now howling like a depressed Beagle at the proposed loss of her breakfast bat. Izzy opens door and we gently put Towel Encased Bat on back deck. I nudge the squirming fabric aside. There, nestled in the beach towel, is the tiniest fuzziest little thing. All terrified and innocent. Just as Zoli gets closer to continue his pleas to keep it, Bat takes a deep breath and lifts off. He cut quite a striking image as he flew down the block, the white gold morning sun streaming through the green green trees. He flew for a couple of houses and then loops up to the front of our block and disappeared (prly right back into the attic once he oriented himself).