Yesterday morning before dawn, around 4:00, I had to get up to pee. Birdie, as usual, accompanied me. Just as I reached the door to the bathroom, something swooped past me, a black silent shadow. I let a high-pitched “oooh” escape, Birdie licked my leg, and I completed my business.

When I got back into bed, the thought, “BAT”, crossed my rattled brain, but I went back to sleep and forgot about it. Later that morning, after a cup of coffee, I remembered the apparition of the night before and walked all over the house looking for the critter. No luck.

This morning, delaying my ritual potty-run until after sunrise , I saw a dark shape, about the size of my fist, attached to the doorframe of the closed spare bedroom. I sidled past it, trying to ignore what I KNEW was a bat, took care of my business, shushed Birdie, and sidled as quietly as possible back to my bed — where I lay, tossing and turning, knowing I had to deal with the dark shape but trying to just go back to sleep.

Finally, around 6:00, I heard Pat get up. I slid quietly out of bed, tiptoed into her room and told her that I had found the bat and we had to deal with it. So we looked around for something to catch it with, and determined we’d throw a pillowcase over it, quickly carry it downstairs and release it outside. Then, I changed my mind and decided I’d open the window and screen of the bathroom window and try to usher it into the bathroom and freedom.

I stationed Pat on the stairway to wave her arms and keep it from flying downstairs, and I got behind it to flap a pillowcase toward it to encourage its escape from the bathroom. The bat had other ideas. Before I got the pillowcase raised into a flap or Pat had her arms in the air, it flew over her head and down the stairs.

I stayed upstairs to discourage its return, Pat and the dogs went down and opened the back doors, hoping it would opt for freedom. It did not. It flew into the living room and disappeared.

We dithered. Finally, I closed the doors between the living room and the rest of the house and positioned Pat on the stairs to once again try flapping her arms to deter the established bat-way from being reused. After looking all over the living room and hall, finding nothing until I noticed a brown slightly furry splotch on the stones above the fireplace, I quietly moved to the front door, opened it and the storm door wide, picked up a pillow to wave, and moved toward the fireplace. The bat was gone. 

I thought it must have flown up the staircase again. Just as I turned to look, I caught the shadow of a wing moving across the porch. Maybe he’d gone. I breathed, staying statue-still and chose to believe he’d escaped. After closing the doors, I finally made my first cup of coffee of the morning, checking doorframes and fireplace stones as I waited for it to brew. 

I am warily optimistic that tomorrow’s early morning foray to the bathroom will be absent of drama.