Mice and Bats! Oh My!

I have no exciting news to report for the blog post this week. So I’ll just tell you a funny (ABSOLUTELY 100% TRUE) story…

Once upon a time (or a few years ago) I rented a cabin in the wilderness on a lake. My husband likes to fish and I thought he would enjoy a week away from it all.  I went online to a trusted website that had cabins for rent.  I found a lovely place with GREAT REVIEWS right on the lake with a boat dock.  It was a beautiful log cabin with a loft bedroom.  The most important part?  They were willing to accept pets.  I have a black Labrador retriever that I refuse to leave at home.  She was a nine month old pup at the time and I figured she would enjoy a vacation at a lake and she could swim for the first time. We packed up all our stuff (pretty much the whole house since I tend to follow the Boy Scout motto of “always be prepared”) and we were on our way.

In typical fashion for me, it was a comedy of errors.

The first night we slept in the downstairs living area because the loft bedroom upstairs was 90 degrees and had no air conditioning. Heat rises.  I figured the best place to sleep would be downstairs where it was cooler.  Ok, that’s not the entire truth.  The loft bedroom had scary steep stairs, I’m deathly afraid of heights, and I was paranoid about the dog falling down the stairs and dying.  At some point in the middle of the night, I heard tap-tap-tap.  I nudged my husband and said, “Oh, it’s raining outside.  The pitter patter sounds nice.  It’s lulling me to sleep.”  My husband, who is infinitely more world-wise than I, kindly corrected me.  “No, that’s not rain.  It’s a mouse running around the kitchen.  The pitter-patter is the sound of his feet scurrying around.”  WTF?  Are you kidding me?  That 90 degree loft was starting to look better and better!

The next day we drove to town for some mouse traps. My husband pointed out the mouse droppings ALL over the kitchen shelves and that was where he laid the traps.  Absolutely disgusting.  In an attempt to enjoy this vacation, I decided it was time to let the dog go swimming.  My water dog.  My Labrador Retriever.  The breed that retrieves things FROM THE WATER.  Ha ha.  Nope.  I got a stick and threw it into the forest.  The dog loves sticks and retrieving.  She was ALL OVER this game.  Next, I threw the stick in the water.  She took two hesitant steps in, got the stick, and gave it back to me.  Fun game.  Then, I threw the stick in the water far away.  She waded in slowly until she couldn’t touch the bottom, looked at me, and came back out.  I was 100% certain of her thought process.  “Um…yeah….I can’t actually TOUCH THE BOTTOM, so there’s no way in Hell I’m going after that stick.”  I told her (out loud of course) “Go get the stick!  You won’t drown.  It’s going to float away!”  She looked at me, looked at the stick, and looked back at me.  I’m pretty sure that meant, “You do realize the forest is full of trees and sticks, right?  Go throw another one.”  So I have a water dog that won’t go in over her head.  However, she has no hesitation about squatting and taking a dump IN THE LAKE.  The world is her toilet, evidently.

The second night came and I was smart enough to sleep in the hot loft where it was safe from mice. Easy choice, right?  Nope.  Sometime in the middle of the night, the dog jumped off the bed she was sharing with me, and crawled UNDER the bed.  I asked my husband, “What’s wrong with the dog?  Why is she on the floor?”  His brilliant answer?  “She’s probably hiding from the bat that’s flying around up here.”  What?  Are you KIDDING ME?  Mice on the first floor, bats on the second?  Come on!  So I high-tailed it BACK to the downstairs area.  I’ll take my chance with a tiny mouse over a rabid bat any day of the week.  The bat decided that he would follow us, because that’s obviously where the party was happening!  So the bat is doing fly-overs and I’m covering myself and the dog with a heavy quilt so we don’t get bitten and get rabies.  I’m sweating my ass off because it’s summer and I’m UNDER a quilt.  I’m screaming at my husband to kill the bat and screaming at the dog that I won’t let her die.  I’m pretty sure she thought this was the best vacation EVER.  My husband found a weapon (a badminton racquet) and he managed to subdue the rabid bat.  I liked to say that he played “bat-minton” pun intended.

In case you’re wondering how I survived the third night….I didn’t. We went home the next day.

Thanks for reading and have a great weekend!

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