Unwelcome Visitor

Something brushed across my arm in the night.

Not my husband’s touch. After decades of marriage, my epidermis recognizes his epidermis, even when I sleep.

spider-1016713_640So I came to my usual semiconscious conclusion: giant hairy spiders had invaded our bed.

Please understand that as a five-year-old missionary kid, I once discovered a tarantula had invited himself to share my covers.

Now, decades later, I slowly wiggled my toes.

Nothing ate them. Whew!

I listened for unauthorized breathing. When our children were little, that sound on the wrong side of the bed indicated our son once again had escaped his crib.

Eventually I realized our son was pursuing a doctorate in Washington, D.C. Probably a safe bet that he wasn’t my brush with the unknown.

A burglar? But our stairs emitted loud cr-r-reaks. I had heard only a quiet swoo-oosh.

Now completely awake, I convinced myself I had dreamed it all.

Until … the next morning, when my no-nonsense husband said he had a similar dream.

That night, I crept up the stairs to our bedroom. A black, shapeless something hung from the fire alarm. I admit to letting refrigerator contents age into anti-matter, but had it been that long since we checked those batteries? Had they disintegrated to black goo?

The “goo” actually resembled a small, folded umbrella … until it shuddered.

bat-868410_640“A bat!” I screamed. “Kill it!”

Men do not understand why women who weep during puppy food commercials expect their husbands to take a flame thrower to all unwelcome home invaders, including burglars, germs and bats.

Finally, Steve persuaded me we could capture it. Armed with a laundry basket, a sheet and a fly swatter, we approached the bat, apparently a sound sleeper. I held the basket over the fire alarm as Steve tried to pry him loose. If Mr. Bat wasn’t a vampire, he certainly impersonated one well, with fierce, beady eyes and snarling white teeth.

My kindhearted husband finally detached him and slapped the sheet over the laundry basket. We carried him, hissing and flapping, outside and released him. Mr. Bat zoomed off into the blackness like a dark angel.

While I admit to a few bats in the belfry, I never expected to find one in our bedroom. If it happens again, we now have a plan.

laundry-basket-59654_640But if I hear unauthorized breathing?

I don’t think a laundry basket will work.

Have you ever shared your space with a bat? Or another unwelcome critter?

2 thoughts on “Unwelcome Visitor

  1. Becky Melby

    You need to post daily. I need to start every day with the laugh! We had a tiny flying squirrel invade our domain–he was so little but I had this terrifying fear that the thing might be rabid. It jumped off a curtain rod and onto my husband who fell off a chair and hurt his shoulder. We eventually made a tunnel out of sheets hung over chairs to direct him to the front door and then chased him out. Funny when I look back at it. Not so much in the middle of it.

    1. Rachael O. Phillips

      Glad I can give you some grins, Becky. You just gave me a laugh 🙂 Hadn’t thought of making a tunnel to the back door! (If it happens again, I’ll try it.)

      Somehow, when a varmint invades our homes, reasonable thinking degenerates into primeval “GET IT!!!”
      I’m glad that the Lord, who sees all, doesn’t post videos of our brave efforts on YouTube.

      Thanks for your comment, and may you have a squirrel-less day!


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