Well, the bat’s out of the bag.
No, that isn’t a typo. I fully meant to say bat instead of cat. But before we get into that, let’s rewind.
Remember how once upon a time I had a roach problem in my apartment? Well, to help with that we got these little lifesavers called roach motels that are essentially boxes with sticky stuff inside so as their tagline goes, “roaches check in but they never check out!”
Turns out, it’s true. They really do catch the suckers (and other things)...But enough about them, we have since moved onto bigger and “batter” things.
FAST FORWARD to this summer, one week ago to be precise.
I was in the bathroom and noticed that the roach motel that was normally horizontal on the ground under the cabinet was vertical. Hm, that’s odd. Maybe I kicked it with my foot and flipped it by accident. Then I saw a bunch of paper debris around it, stuff that looks like what goes inside a hamster cage. Hm, that’s really odd.
I go to flip it over and immediately can tell by the weight of the motel that there was something in there and it was NOT a roach. I got down on the ground to see what it was and when I did, I was met with TWO BEADY LITTLE MOUSE EYES STARING AT ME. That did it for me. There was no way I could reach my hand toward it to throw it out. I called my neighbor and he came up in a jiffy and took care of it.
I thought life would go on. Well, a few days later I saw what at first I thought was some lint in the bathtub, but after I picked it up and investigated it I realized it was some sort of droppings. Awesome. Amazing. Fantastic. I bleached the tub and my hand (not really but cleaned it well) and went to work, texting my landlord to have the exterminator come first thing Monday.
I got back at around 8:30 that night and was on the phone with my parents so they could be with me to check the bathroom upon my return, you know, just in case. I checked the traps, I checked under the cabinet and I checked the tub: nada. Just when I thought I was off the hook (and my parents thought they could carry on with their Saturday night) I saw something clinging to my shower curtain.
It all happened so fast. I saw it. I started to cry. I slam the door. I find my safe space sitting on the kitchen chair and the kitchen table. It was like the floor was lava, nothing could touch the ground in fear that something would run across my toes.
If it was alive, I was not going in there.
If it was dead, I was not going in there.
Either way, I was not going in there to deal with it. Whatever IT was.
So, I called my neighbors once again (the best in the whole world) telling them there was a mouse on my curtain and they needed to get rid of it. Eventually, they got here but when they went to go check, there was nothing there. IT WAS GONE.
My heart sank. You have got to be kidding me. How was I supposed to carry on with my night knowing that there was a creature using my bathroom? Literally - it clearly had been pooping in the bathtub. I sent them on their way after they set some more traps and I tried to go to bed.
I was just staring at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep when I heard a SNAP.
No. No. No no no no. The trap went off. I also really need to pee. But I can’t go in there! Not if the trap just went off.
SO my neighbors came up once again to check the trap. Guess what? NOTHING WAS THERE.
This little sucker was playing games and I was not in the mood. Right after the boys left, I went in there to check myself. The first thing I see is dirt on the toilet seat and ground next to it. How was this not a red flag to the boys? Do they think I live in FILTH? I look up and see the creature just chilling right above me on the gas meter.
FRICK. Frickitty frick frick frick.
I ran to my front door, swung it open and yelled “GUYS COME BACK THERE IS SOMETHING IN HERE.”
When they opened the bathroom door and looked up, they immediately said: “Megan. That is a bat.”
Sidenote: They had dealt with a dead bat in the dryer just a few days before, so they knew exactly what it was. And don’t ask. I couldn’t tell you.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t even freak out. I handed them the Swiffer and told them to take care of it. To which they then said, ummmm no. You need to call animal control.
SO - I called animal control. They said it would be about an hour wait because there were other matters to tend to first. WHAT COULD BE MORE IMPORTANT THAN THIS? The guy showed up at around 12:30 Saturday night - talk about a crazy, wild, college weekend night!
He had a container the size of a Sabra Hummus tin and that was it. No gloves. No fancy bat catching contraption. Just a little plastic container. Clearly, he knew what he was doing though because he came out with the little sucker and tried showing it to me, to which I shielded my eyes and said get that thing away from me.
I proceeded to ask about disease, cleaning protocols and what my next steps should be.
He asked if I had been bitten by the bat. Of course, I frantically start examining my arms to search for bite marks or signs that I am about to turn into a vampire but I couldn’t find any. He said that meant I didn’t have rabies and WHAT A RELIEF THAT WAS.
After I asked a dozen more questions about cleaning, he walked out. By then it was almost 1 in the morning and I had to clean the entire bathroom, rinse the bat off of me and try to sleep.
FAST FORWARD to today:
The holes in the bathroom have since been patched up, the exterminator has come and life has resumed. Am I still walking on eggshells? Yes. Do I look up every time I enter the bathroom? Yes. Was it scary? Yes. Did I cry? Maybe a little. But am I ALIVE TO TELL THE TALE? Frick to the yes.
Stay safe out there and when in doubt, call animal control. They will pick up the phone no matter what time of day it is and will be at your door to help you. And at the end of the day, isn’t that the kind of friend we all need?
Also, if anyone feels like they need to see photographic evidence of this event, send me a message and I will gladly send you a photo at your own risk.
