Living in the country, I’ve just about gotten used to the idea of my cats depositing little furry gifts at my door. It’s like they’re so proud of their accomplishment that they feel the need to share it with me. Every once in awhile I open the door to the summer kitchen and find a cute little mouse laying there… appearing very much asleep… yet from a sleep he will never wake from.
So today I opened the door to walk to the other fridge and glanced down at something that appeared darker than the old wooden floor. I was walking in bare feet (never a good idea) and thankfully avoided stepping on what I thought was a piece of wood or bark. The absence of a tail eliminated any thought of a mouse. I stood there staring down, trying to figure out what I was looking at. Then I poked it with my big toe. It was soft. Uh oh. Not wood.
I would have loved to have seen the cat stalking that bat. It was probably a perfectly executed maneuver. Maybe the bat was asleep? It was Tyson, my black cat, who caught him. It almost seems fitting, somehow, that a black cat would battle with a bat.