The kids left the screen door open. Something flew by my head on the porch. The streetlights came on, the corner bar clinked. Summer night in Shorewood.
I’m cozy in bed, pillowed in and hydrated, when I hear a commotion downstairs. Paul was dodging a bat that was flying in fast circles around the living room ceiling.
He didn’t get it that night, it swooped past the broom and disappeared into an unknown cranny in this old bungalow. We slept with the bedroom doors closed, looked up rabies, looked up pest control, shrugged and waited.
The next night, from my perch reading in bed, I saw a fuzzy black smudge fly, fast and low to the ground, down the hallway! Paulie leapt into naked action, armed with a random piece of pottery and a laundry basket. I ran, gingerly, downstairs for the broom. On my way back up, I scooped up Stevie who was sitting obliviously on the stairs.
Down the hall, I swing the dust pan at the black smudge flapping toward me, batting it back to Paulie. He managed to swat it, dazing it severely, and scoop it with one swift gesture into the garbage can.
Panting, as he slide by me with the captured critter, “Oh good, you’ve got Stevie safe”.
Safe? Yes, THAT’S what I was doing, keeping Stevie safe! Yep, got the cat right here, tucked safe and sound away from the bat, under my arm…
Who’s going to tell him?
girl at large 
