A Servant's Call
I need to focus. My primary objective is to get the bat out of the house without damage to myself or the bat (injury to my pride, needless to say, is no longer avoidable). I recall, at this moment, that there are containers in the kitchen that might just fit the occasion. I dig around and find one of those square, plastic containers moms use to freeze stuff in and a cookie sheet without the raised up edges on it. What I'll do, I decide, is put the square plastic freezer container on top of the bat (seems to be just the right size, not too small, and not big enough for the bat to get too energetic in) and then slide the cookie sheet under the bat, pressing down on the rug so as not to injure the bat. Easy!
It all turns out exactly as planned with a dash of heart retching terror added for flavor. No doubt the creature was ten times more frightened than I was. I start feeling really badly for the bat. I put it outside on the deck of the cabin. It's raining. I am feeling worse and worse all the time. Bats belong outside, now don't they? They know how to survive outside, in the rain or otherwise, don't they? Yes, indeed they do, I reply to myself emphatically. So I put the cookie sheet with its plastic freezer container hat on the deck and lift the container slowly. The bat doesn't move but it does open its mouth and snarls at me with a pretty healthy set of sharp teeth and fangs. I decide this was a good sign. I'll just leave it out here and it will fly away. Ah, finally. The end.
I spend the rest of the afternoon resting. After all, this is what I came up here for, isn't it? But every half-hour or so I go out to check on the bat. It's still there. It did manage to climb up onto the siding of the house. It's a little dryer there. I made sure there was an overhang to protect it somewhat from the rain. A few hours later, it was back on the floor of the deck, soaked to the bone. Obviously it's sick. I don't know what to do. I tilt the cookie sheet (still out on the deck) against the side of the cabin over the bat to add some protection from the rain. I pray that it will fly away once it turns dark.Wait a minute! Maybe it isn't alive. Come to think of it, it hasn't moved since I eyed it. Maybe it's dead? What to do, what to do?!
I decide to ignore it again. If it moves, I'll know it's not dead, if it doesn't move, I won't really know anything I didn't know before, namely that it's a bat. It's a bat in my house, with me for who knows how long doing who knows what for who knows what purpose. I don't feel in control of this situation at all. Did I mention that control is very important to me? Now I'm scared and uncomfortably out of control. Things are deteriorating quickly.
While I'm ignoring the bat, my mind is very busy reviewing alternatives. If it's dead, no problem, just take it out to the woods (the thought of actually touching it creates a momentary quiver) and drop it off somewhere where nature can take its course in comfort (my comfort, preferably). I like this scenario. So I adopt this as the most acceptable reality and relax a little. With my fear in check, I'm only left with mild discomfort. I go on to enjoy the afternoon reading and listening to music.
Sometime later in the day, I decide to check on the brown blob under the chair. I can't vouch for the order of the following events, but they seem to have progressed something like this: 1) I look at the blob, 2) my heart starts racing, 3) I realize it has moved. It makes you wonder how the brain works. The eye registers an image and sends a message to the brain. I would guess that the brain then registers the image and superimposes it on the one it had before of the same brown blob. Before the brain can even send a message to some cognizant part of itself, the body reacts by pumping blood faster through the veins turning on the fight-flight mechanism (somewhat overdeveloped in myself, I might add). Finally the cognizant part of the brain actually translates all this noise into: "The form has shifted!" Here I go again - diverging. Can you imagine what it must be like living inside my head all the time?! Enough to drive someone crazy . . . that would explain . . . never mind!
It didn't move much. It didn't even leave its spot on the rug. It simply turned from west to north. Did I mention I have no sense of direction? Let's just say it turned 90 degrees. The point, of course, is that it's obviously alive. Suddenly my invented reality no longer works. Now I have a problem on my hands. I'm going to have to touch it or something! I have to get it out of the house! Adrenaline coursed through my body at previously unmeasured speeds and my ears were ringing. I really hate it when my ears ring. It's so distracting and obnoxious. "Shut up, I need to think!" I say as I walk around in circles. Very effective, I might add. Beats actually doing anything! The storm of fear and complete inadequacy is in full force.
