It's All About the Attitude

Yesterday, I rescued a bat. Apparently, he came into my art studio building from the attic several days earlier while the owner was storing boxes. The little guy squeezed himself up into a corner above the picture hanging rail in our gallery hall. He had to hook his little legs around the rail and hide his face against the corner to sleep with all the light pouring in from the huge, warehouse style windows. Nobody seemed to know how long he'd been there, stuck among the art with one single fly (I really hope he ate that pesky bastard) and no water. So, I broke out the old animal nets and borrowed a pair of work gloves (that will never be the same) from Gene. I'll admit, the whole thing made me miss the zoo just a little.

The net proved to be useless thanks to the corner situation. But, I was able to sneak up a ladder and put my hand right over the sleeping ball of brown fur. Immediately, he starting bitching. Loud! And, of course he dug his teeth into the leather and pee'd all over it. I don't think Gene is going to be too happy to get his gloves back. Of course, I was not surprised by the initial attitude, and this is hardly the first time I've been pee'd on. (Remember peeps, a zookeeping job sounds fun until you think about all those bodily functions you have to clean up. Some of the animals like to throw it at you, too.) So, I held on tight and carried the little guy outside where he could return to his family in the attic.

What I didn't expect was the attitude I got when I let him go. The feisty, little booger just sat there on my glove, all his teeth bared, and bitched at me for at least two minutes before he finally flew off. He definitely subscribes to that "if you're small and cornered just act crazy" school of thought. He had some big attitude packed in a cute, little package. Now that I've gotten to know him, I think he's my kind of bat.