With all the talk of rabies, I find myself hoping it was caught, frozen and autopsied. Not a fan of Trump or his followers, but rabies scares the shit outta me.
As I live right next to the largest urban (others can be much larger) in the world, this is advice worth heeding. My huge huntress of a black cat used to bring me pwesents. One was a bat (two actually, but only the first one counts). I decided to do the proper thing and report it. Yes, the bat was rabid. So she needed shots. I apparently also needed shots. You cannot pay for these things with food stamps, I’ve been told. A cat lady from the apt. got her the shots. I went on charity for the first round of shots (not that bad if you don’t mind getting the needle 5 times and they so it by weight so 5 would be a minimum as I’m pretty skinny). Thing was, Satan (I did not name her; she was abandoned and I kept her name when she adopted me) needed to be quarantined for 6 weeks or months, I forget. Uh, you cannot expect this cat to stay indoors for that length of time. “Litter box??? LITTER BOX??? I will shred your clothes!!! I Will shred YOU!!! LET ME OUT!!!” Which I would since she would follow me around anyway and I thought that might do it. Nope. Had to give the beast up to Animal Control with no expectation of her life. Had my shots (the worst part was the fucking 8 hr wait) and never had the follow-up shots. Charity only goes so far, ya know. Well, I still had the little feral (former) tom that Satan had taught how to get the window screen to open so as to get in and out at will. But. Eleven months later, lo and behold Satan is in my kitchen. Definitely her. She knew the screen trick. She’s still with me and fortunately neither of us contracted rabies.
My cat/rabies story
From what I can figure, birds are hard enough to shoot and they are linear compared to bat flight. But I do get your point.
I almost wish the left had commentators as bat shit crazy as Alex Jones to give this story the demonic interpretation it deserves…
Up here in New England we have a lot of old houses. Mine was built sometime around 1810 and was “improved” piecemeal by various owners over the years. It sports an abundance of rooflines and overhanging eaves that are popular with bats, which is probably why we ended up with a colony living in the ceiling above the spare bedroom.
At first the bats were decent neighbors. Sometimes, late at night when there was no traffic or wind I’d hear them scurrying around, but I assumed it was mice (no shortage of those), and wasn’t overly concerned.
Then the roof developed a leak, the ceiling above the spare room collapsed, and we were introduced to our guests. Similar to mice, to be sure, but mice with wings. I captured the first visitor without incident and sent him out for testing. I felt bad about it, since the tests are post-mortem and like @Spizella, I’m bullish on bats. No rabies.
It took three tries and the better part of a year to get the roof fixed. I encouraged a second bat to make good it’s escape through an open window, but the third bat was less cooperative. He crawled underneath the door to the spare room and cut loose on the second floor. I eventually stunned him with a lacrosse stick (picture the lobster scene in Annie Hall) and evicted him, but not before he had gotten a bit too familiar with my wife and daughter.
I called my daughter’s pediatrician the next morning and received the unwelcome news that we all had to have shots. Even with insurance, six consecutive visits to the ER was expensive, compounded by the fact that the visits were charged separately for each of us. But none of us died of rabies, so there’s that; and I fixed the roof without breaking my neck, so there’s that; and one year on it appears that we’ve successfully excluded the bats from the house.
The end. I hope.
“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” - Lady Julian of Norwich
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