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Rated: E · Other · Animal · #2127382
A day in the life

My cat killed a bat. That pretty much sums it up. Our air conditioning is on the fritz. We're waiting for the part to arrive so it can be fixed. In the meantime, the house is around 84 every night when we get home. As the sun fades, I open up some windows, the doors, including the sliding glass door off the dining room. It leads out to the concrete pad which then connects to the in-ground pool. The dog is on the floor near me laying in front of the small fan which is just blowing hot air. But any air movement is better than nothing. Two of the three cats are outside enjoying the evening air.

One of my cats, Peyton, is still a youngster at 6 years old. She's a hunter. She chases flies, bugs, butterflies and has caught a mouse or two. Last night I'm sitting in my chair watching tv in the living room. Since the living room is an open concept to the dining room, I can hear the nighttime noises through the open patio screen door... birds settling down for the night, cicadas singing, kids playing in the neighborhood. The sun has set, but it's still light enough that I can see the water in the pool.

Then I hear Peyton meow. Now this cat hardly ever meows when she's outside. She's too busy scoping out the scene. But I hear her loud and clear. I get up and head into the kitchen so I can go to the back door. Turning on the porch light, I see Peyton has something in her mouth. I think "jeez, she caught a mouse? In the back yard?" She's eager to show me her prize and rushes towards the door. I push her back with my foot, telling her "don't bring it in, I'll come to you." I step outside and reach for her. She knows I'm going to take the prize away and she starts a game of come and get me. I follow her around the patio table until she finally decides she's ready to show it off. She drops it and I realize it's not a mouse at all, but a bat. A small brown dead bat. "Poor thing," I think. I knew we had bats in the yard.... I've been out at twilight and have seen them flying overhead. I don't mind... they kill the bugs. Anything that eats mosquitoes and spiders is alright with me. So I wasn't happy to see that what she had caught was actually a beneficial element to the back yard. She's looking at me as if to say "I did good, huh Ma." I give her the evil eye but don't say anything. I realize the cycle of life involves death and that cats are natural hunters. I just wish I could pick and choose what she hunts. I also wish I could win the lottery and we know that's not going to happen. So the chances of me picking and choosing what she hunts seems as far fetched.

So now I've got a dead bat. I set it on top of the covered grill while I decide what to do with it. Throw it away? Bury it? Throw it over the fence? What to do, what to do. I go inside and tell my boyfriend that Peyton killed a bat. He says, "we have bats?" Yes, the man is hardly ever out in the back yard after dark. I say, "Yes, dear, we have bats." He says, "Cool." Um. Ok. There went that idea of getting his help.

I go back outside and decide that I can't bury it. Either the dog or one of the cats will discovered the buried treasure. I don't want to throw it over the fence. That's not very neighborly. Then I think "what if it had rabies?" And she might have bitten it, unless she killed it by scaring it to death. Ugh. So I decide I don't want to chance another animal finding it, so I go back in and get a plastic bag. Yes, even though I recycle like a fiend, I still use plastic bags. I grab a paper towel and wrap the poor thing up in that before seal it in the plastic bag. I take it around to the front of the house where we have our garbage can and unceremoniously drop it in. "Sorry, dude," I apologize as I hear a thud.

I feel bad. My cat's a murderer. Several times over, actually, but I didn't have any sympathy for the pesky flies or mice that she's caught in the past. While it was fascinating to actually be able to view the bat up close, I was sad that it had to be the victim of back yard savagery. Oh well. Life includes death. The fittest survive. And cats kill bats.
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