Cookoo Charlie's Animal Alphabet - Bats

Bats

The scream from his brother-in-law sent Dominick Thoth bolting towards the stairs that led up to the attic. Dominick’s brother-in-law had been living with the family since he came into town a little over a month ago.

“A bat! A bat!” yelled Edgar.

Dominick froze, like a headlight-caught deer, turned and altered his course towards the living room. Opening the closet door, he reached in and extracted a racquetball racquet. He began playing the sport back in college and was actually pretty good at it.

Resuming his original destination, Dominick raced up the stairs. He really didn’t give a shit about Edgar, but his one-year old daughter lay asleep on the second floor.

Entering the attic, Dominick found his brother-in-law in bed, his covers pulled up to his nose. Dominick slightly smirked thinking Edgar actually believed that myth about bats getting tangled up in your hair.

As the bat swooped down from the dusty beams, it triggered a childhood memory. When Dominick was around 8 or 9, his family drove up to Lake Chautauqua in New York for vacation. They rented a cabin in the woods and soon found out that one of the neighboring cabins was rented out by an Ashtabula, Ohio family, which wasn’t too far from Dominick’s hometown, Youngstown, Ohio.

One evening, as Dominick played with his plastic dinosaurs bought especially for this trip, a shadow swept over his triceratops and ankylosaurus. Dominick tilted his head in curiosity. Seconds later, a second shadow covered his collection of prehistoric plastic.

“Oh my god,” exclaimed Dominick’s mom. “There’s bats in here!”

“Everybody out,” commanded Dominick’s father.

Dominick jumped up. “I wanna stay. I wanna stay,” he pleaded, looking for the flying rodents, as his mom called them.

Dominick’s father guided him to the cabin’s door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Once outside, the evening cool, the sky star-strewn and mosquito-thick, Dominick’s father went next door. Knocking on the door, he entered when it opened. A minute later out stepped both obstinate Ohioan fathers, one armed with a broom, the other with a shovel.

The extermination of the winged mammals took a little over five minutes. Dominick’s father exited the cabin carrying a trash bag that held the night’s disturbance. Dominick could tell by the look on his father’s face that he had found no enjoyment in what he had to do.

After three unsuccessful swipes, Dominick connected with his fourth attempt. The bat dropped faster than a shitty sit-com. As Dominick bent down to check out the battered bat, Edgar, feeling secure, tossed his covers back and slipped out of bed in his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles underwear.

Walking over to his brother-in-law, Edgar found Dominick absorbed in the nocturnal invader he held out before him. A year ago this very evening, Dominic’s father was killed after his car was sideswiped by a sixteen year old kid whose license had been laminated a week before. At this very moment, Dominic, never being a very religious man, swore to god that that bat was grinning at him just like his father used to do.

For those of you interested in protecting bats, may I suggest you support

Bat World Sanctuary