
…is among one of the new titles added to the long list of nicknames in which we affectionately refer to our dog. It ranks up there with Dakotie, Kota, Dakota-puss (courtesy of the IHOP Nanner-puss commercial), and now Batwoman. Why Batwoman you ask? Well let me give you a short run down of yesterday evening.
I was able to make it home a little early from work so that I could take Dakota to the dog park since it was SOOOO nice outside. (She ABSOLUTELY loves going there to run with the other dogs and Mr. L and I win out also because by the time we leave she is so exhausted that all she wants to do for the rest of the evening is lay around) I ra

n in the house, made sure to turn off the alarm, which we’ve been setting a lot more diligently lately due to the recent string of home break-ins in our area, and headed to the basement door. Our basement is mostly unfinished so this is where she stays while we are gone to work as an alternative to having to lay in her crate all day. Usually she is sitting at the top of the stairs after she hears me come in, so I just let her out and we go straight outside. On a rare occasion I might go downstairs to check on things but most of the time I try to avoid it like the plague because I think it’s creepy down there and there is really nothing she could get into… or so we thought.
We spent a good hour at the dog park before we came home so I could start dinner for Mr. L. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary when we walked in, I went in the kitchen and Dakota ran downstairs. This is a pretty typical occurrence for her in the evenings, she might be going down to get her football or her bone to bring up to play with in the family room, but when she came up carrying nothing, I should have been suspicious. A few minutes later Mr. L called to say that he wanted to run over to his parents’ house so that his Dad could check our taxes before we filed them and not to worry about cooking dinner; we’d just pick something up. So Dakota and I sat on the couch and waited for him to come home.
As we were getting ready to leave, I asked Mr. L to run downstairs (because obviously I didn’t want to) to grab Dakota’s bone to take with us to his parents’ so she would have something to keep her occupied for a while. He obliged and not two seconds after I heard his feet hit th

e basement floor did I also hear his voice yelling for me. “Have you been down here today!?” He screamed. “Uh…no” I politely yelled back…duh I was thinking to myself. What happens next could have been a real turning point in our married relationship. If he is anything like my father he may have chosen to hide what I’m about to tell you and use it as a practical joke or to scare me. However, I think he was just as grossed out as I would have been. After I didn’t hear anything from him, I yelled back down to him again thinking maybe she had chewed the nasty carpet down there again or pulled up some toe strip, all of which I care nothing about. “What is is?” I said. “Dakota got sick down here today…and I think she killed something”. Killed, that’s all it took, the word killed, to run chills up my spine. There was something alive in my house that my dog felt the need to kill. GROSS! “What was it” I said out of fear and disgust, not really wanting to know. “I think it’s a bat,” he yelled back up. For those of you who are puzzled, thinking to yourselves, a bat?...yes a flying bat, not to be confused with a baseball bat which is what the vet’s office receptionist thought I was talking about when I called there this morning. He proceeded to force me to come downstairs to help him clean “it” up and I did just like a good wife, holding the bag with eyes shut, teeth clenched and ants in my pants! Thank goodness the thing was really dead because had it moved when Mr. L went to scoop it up I think I would have had a heart attack.
How a bat got into our house I do not know, and the thought of other bats still hanging around makes me nauseous and wanting to move into a hotel for a few days until we can get an exterminator over to check things out. It does seem odd to me that it was in our basement (don’t bats usually hang out in attics?) especially since the windows are glass block and the door to the outside hasn’t been opened down there in probably six months. For now I guess it will remain a mystery and at least we have batwoman to scare off anymore bats that might think about showing themselves. Let it be a lesson to them…she will find you and then it’s CURTAINS! No more doggie kisses for us for a while, that’s for sure! I’ll keep you updated on the development of any fangs….HA!
PS. I was going to add an image of a real bat...but after I googled photos of bats and hundres of creepy bat photos popped up I got the heeby geebies so bad that I had to close the page. So cartoon photos of batwoman it is!