A Bald Mouse in the House

The other evening we were in our living room when the girls noticed some movement in our fireplace. (The fireplace is covered with a glass door.) The girls looked and thought at first that it was a frog that was stuck in there. Then they looked more closely and discovered that it was a small black bat. By the way, the word for "bat" in French is "chauve-souris"--literally, a bald mouse.

Needless to say, we were all shocked and worried. (Actually, we were all freaked out, but that doesn't sound dignified.) We watched the bat flutter around the fireplace for several minutes. We decided that we should just leave it alone and hope that it could get out the same way it got in. It turns out that Anna, who has an almost pathological fear of insects, has an equally strong fear of bats. She wasn't able to sleep in her own bed that night for fear that the bat would get out of the fireplace and attack her. So she slept with Jennifer.

The next morning the bat was still there. It was totally motionless, so I thought perhaps it had died. However, it was just in a deep daytime sleep. When it got dark, it started to flap around the fireplace again. Our cat Cookie Dough, who fancies himself a hunter, couldn't tear himself away from the little creature in the fireplace. Cookie Dough spent most of the evening (and probably all night) meowing and trying to bat at the bat. Once again, Anna slept with Jennifer.

The next morning I decided that something had to be done. I couldn't bear the thought of the bat starving to death in our fireplace. Our main worry was that the bat might have rabies. So Jennifer and I locked all three cats and the two girls behind closed doors, gathered up all of our nerve, and commenced a bat rescue mission.

First we taped a large plastic garbage bag around the fireplace door in the hopes that when we opened the door, the bat would just fall in. Then we put on winter coats and gloves, just in case the potentially rabid bat bit us. I grabbed a toilet scrub brush to use to prod the bat. We were ready to go in.

The bat was in a deep sleep, upside down, in the very corner of the fireplace. It didn't move when we opened the door, which meant I had to prod it with the toilet brush. I poked at it, and managed to make it fall toward the bag, at which point Jennifer maneuvered the bag over and managed to catch it. I pinched the bag shut and dashed through the patio door and outside.

Once outside, I ran under a tree near the outer edge of our yard. I wasn't looking forward to shaking the bat out of the bag, but I made myself do it. I shook and shook the bag, and finally the bat fell to the ground. It started to flop around, at which point I ran like a crazy person back into the house, undoubtedly shrieking the whole time. At least we knew the bat was alive. (Zoey would have never forgiven us if somehow the bat had died. She's a die-hard animal lover.)

So it wasn't pretty, but we managed to rescue the bat and get it out of our house. I could have called a pest control company to deal with it, but the prospect of dealing with another French workman was daunting. Besides, knowing how things work here, it probably would have taken several days to get a pest control person to our house, by which time the bat would have died. All I can say is that I hope we don't have any other creatures fall into our fireplace in the future.