Pure Krevil

My butt cheeks are filled to the brim with the goodness of immunoglobulin!

And how are you today?

It all started on a dark and stormy night. In fact, it was so nice that DH decided to leave the sliding door to our fenced yard open and let the dogs complete their evening ablutions at their leisure while he made a tasty chicken soup just feet away. Unfortunately, he fell asleep and left the door open for a couple of hours. I was not available to nag him because I'd long since fallen asleep reading on top of our bed upstairs (bad sleep hygeine, I know, but the textbook I was studying was like hardbound Ambien, and for some reason I felt it was important to man my post as I read so that I could periodically his "Sssshhh!" to Big Unit and Medium Unit, who were enjoying a spirited post-bedtime debate about whether the lady Mythbuster of the Discovery Channel show was hot).

That was enough time let the bat in....

And more importantly, to leave open at least a two-hour window for Stella Luna to flit from room to room, biting people with tiny, sharp teeth.

Or not.

Long story short, the bat buzzed my shrieking head at about 2:30 a.m. and landed on its belly in the upstairs hallway.

"It's looking at me!" whispered DH in a tiny voice, his jewels nestled up against his larynx.

Stella Luna blinked and turned his fuzzy brown head this way and that. Creepy.

"It says here we should throw a towel on it and catch it that way! If the bat seems tired," he continued reading from his iPhone, "help it into a low tree branch with a gloved hand."

Maybe s/he would like a mojito, too. (Italics for my brain talking.)

I, too, was hopping around the tiny hallway, ready to run screaming if Myotis lucifugus flopped any closer to my slippered feet. I threw the towel down; Stella Luna made the obligatory clicky-hissy-angry noises, but seemed stuck. I should have gotten my first glimmer of the dopiness of this plan when I noticed how small the bat was, trapped under a purple expanse of bath towel. After palpating the little f***er, I gathered the whole clicking, whirring bundle of angry bat in my gloved hands and charged out the front door.

At the edge of yard, I did what any red-blooded heroine would do: I shook out the bath towel and scurried back inside like a mentally challenged sandpiper.

Back inside, DH's stricken gaze met mine.

"The CDC says we're supposed to keep the bat!" he wailed, the anguished creases of his forehead illuminated by his phone.

I can live with the pain and expense of rabies shots for me (and DH, I guess). Even though they dose it by weight, the Four Units have suffered needle-sticks aplenty over the last few days. Not fun. Even though it's highly unlikely that any of us were truly exposed, we had to ask ourselves if we could leave anybody in the fam open to throat spasms, delirium, coma and death if we had the power to prevent it.

Hence, the butt(s) full of painful, rabies-free goodness. 

Happy Halloween, and remember: If you find a bat where you've been sleeping, catch it and keep it (dead or alive, so long as the skull is not crushed) for testing! And don't fix it a mojito!