We lost Stanley.

After  keeping the pantry door closed against our resident bat on and off for four months we had grown lax. We hadn’t seen Stanley and so assumed he’d moved on to more fruitful pastures. But a few days ago I stumbled to the bathroom in the wee hours of the morning and my path was tangential to Stanley bobbing and weaving his way into BushDiva’s open bedroom door. I made a mental not to make sure my door was closed and thought no more of it.

Later that day, as BushDiva rummaged through her closet, I heard a yelp and then a slow motion shuffling of feet across our tile floor. She’d found Stanley dangling amidst her clothes and he’d winged himself into our spare bedroom in his rush to escape. I shut the door behind him and we laughed for a while and then went about our day.

BushDiva checked on him later. Cracked the door just enough to see him dangling from the white mosquito net. And with him momentarily stationary she taunted me into getting my camera for a Stanley close-up.

Fearful that he would wake up, spread his wings, and fly towards me (the little rabies carrying rat with wings) I steeled myself for a closer up and shut the door swiftly behind me. Staring over the pictures I mused, “Stanley looks dead.”

BushDiva retorted no, but took my camera in for a closer look. Several shots later she was all the more certain that his peculiar one foot dangling was him getting restless and I was ever more sure that his footing was slipping from what would be his final perch.

This morning BushDiva came looking for me, “Stanley is dead,” she relayed.

And so he was -his little fuzzy form in the same position as the night before- wings unfolding from his body. I got some closer photos and then left the door open – much to BushDiva’s dismay. But after she closed it she chimed, “Are we going to have a funeral for Stanley?”

Somehow I doubt it but we are wracking our brains trying to figure out who likes us enough to help him to his final resting place.

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