My Sad Bat Story

Oliver, our "Number One Cat" escaped just before dark yesterday.

He returned about 30 minutes later with a trophy. In the past, he has brought home dead birds, moles, voles, chipmunks, and mice. Last night, he brought home a bat and deposited it in his trophy case, also known as our front porch.

My job is to bury the dead. Actually, I just dump the dead in the storm drain so that our dogs don't find and perhaps eat the carcasses.

I got a small shovel to scoop up the remains. As I began to scoop up the bat, it chirped at me and fluttered its wings. The poor thing was still alive, but one wing was damaged (a big hole) and its body was cut up badly and seeping blood. In that condition, it was evident it would never fly again and would probably die sooner or later, so I decided to put it out of its misery.

I used a sharp chisel to do the job. I hated doing it.