No more bat rehab.

After I spoke to you I checked on Barry. No bat in the mixing bowl. So we took the bedroom apart. Sheets, bedspread, magazines, drawers, pulled apart the mattress. No bat. Bob thought he crawled into one of the many holes in the floor to die. I was okay with that, I was sad but it was cool he was dead. About nine p.m., we were watching a movie on TV, everything is dark, and the bat starts flying around the room past our heads. AAAAAGGG! So I ran in the bedroom, slammed the door and Bob caught Barry with a fishing net and tossed him outside. What an experience! No more bat rehabilitation. Ever.



Love, Mom