I have three cats: Rascle, Sassy, and our latest addition, Peaches. Like every other cat, ours hunt. Sometimes we get up and find whatever's left over of their midnight meal, but other times, like tonight, they bring us presents. Usually it's a bunny, or a bird, or even a mouse. Rascle, now he's the gift giver; he's the one that brings us by far the most presents. A few summers ago, Rascle, my adorable little baby boy, brought in a hummingbird. Yes, you read that correctly. A hummingbird. Of course, we let the little miracle--'cause anything that can beat their wings hundreds of time per second is a miracle--go and watched it fly away, to the top of the pine tree that's in our front yard. About a week later, Rascle brought in another hummingbird. Now, this cat takes his time walking from place to place. Just strolls around like he owns the place--no doubt he thinks he actually does.
Tonight, I turn around in my computer chair to find him sitting not even a foot away, looking up at me. At his feet was--you guessed it--a bat. It's wings were totally spread, and it lay perfectly flat on the floor. I shrieked, waking my nearly asleep mum, who in turn voiced a shriek--along with a muttered curse--of her own. I laid a cloth over it so if it really was alive, it wouldn't fly away. While my mum looked for something to pick it up with and bring it outside, I pulled the edge of the cloth up to make sure it was still there. I couldn't see it, so I lifted up a different corner and still didn't see it.
I called and called my mum, who didn't believe me when I told her it was gone! She picked up the cloth, and there, curled up into a little ball, was the bat. She ran--or hobbled, rather--to once more get something to take it outside with, while I was left to the duty of holding down the edges of the cloth so it couldn't escape, which, of course, was exactly what it was trying to do.
Finally, after many squeals, and quite a few minutes--or so it seemed--my mum came out with a plastic bag and we brought it outside and set it on the edge of the porch. I checked 15 minutes later to find it gone, probably looking for a bug or two to munch on.
Meanwhile, Rascle, is laying on his side, a shit-eatin' grin on his face, panting happily. The look on his furry little face said, "My work here is done." And it was.
That's my adventure, and his too, for tonight.