That time with the bat

Imagine it's 3:30am on a Saturday evening (so technically Sunday). You've already had one animal emergency because your dog (OK, my dog) accidentally swallowed a huge piece of rawhide. 

I woke up from what I think was some kind of dream and saw what I thought, in my bleary half awake state, was a big moth flying the ceiling perimeter of my bedroom. Maybe a bird. I wake the dog and the boyfriend and wander into the hall and's a bat. There is a bat in my bedroom.

We try in vain to get the bat to leave, and he disappears into the kitchen. We (dumbly) assume he made it out the same way he came in, through a hole under the sink my landlord swore didn't go to the outside.

Fast forward two days. 

I'm about to fall asleep watching Friends (my nightly routine) and suddenly, the bat is back. 

But really, the bat wasn't back. He'd never left. Luckily, I have an amazing man who came and captured the bat (see below) and comforted Midasman and me. OK, just me. Midas was unaffected. 

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